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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756431">Impressions of Teeth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24'>Agent_24</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Were-Creatures, Werewolf Bites, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:56:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After hunting alone for years, Qrow somehow gets roped into a temporary partnership with a Hunter from the Atlas Guild.</p><p>Except the partnership isn't temporary. At least, not in the way he expected it to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>235</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What's up lads its ya boy Agent back with yet another au!! This time it's plain and simple: werewolves.</p><p>In this au Grimm don't exist in the way we know them: there aren't any immortals, reincarnating freaks of nature, or semblances, although weapons exist as normal and Grimm still respond to negative emotions. All Grimm resemble Beowolves, and furthermore, Faunus have been reimagined as werewolves. </p><p>More will be explained in story, so please enjoy! Additionally, you can listen to my werewolf inspiration playlist <a href="https://twitter.com/Agent_R24/status/1252103634592169985?s=19">here!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No one really knows where Grimmwolves came from. </p><p>All that was known of them was that they were, in nature, supernatural. Most thought they were hellhounds of some kind, either sent as punishment or summoned for some kind of vengeance that quickly spiraled out of control. They were vicious, blood thirsty, always growing in number and always eager to steal away loved ones. </p><p>Or simply eat loved ones—at least at first. </p><p>See, the Grimmwolves were just mindless beasts with insatiable hunger, hulking and covered in tar fur save for their bone white faces that only made their bright eyes look shallow, with paws too close to hands and too-broad shoulders that resembled men. Most times those claws and teeth just ripped their victims to shreds. But sometimes—just on occasion—there were survivors.</p><p>Until there weren’t.</p><p>When the full moon rolled around, the survivors would change. Not quite so big, not necessarily the pitch black of tar, but full of teeth and claws all the same. And so, to protect villages and growing cities, hunters and trappers began founding guilds, specialized groups to prevent the spread of Grimmwolves over the countryside. </p><p>And those who survived attacks—specifically, those who were bitten and not dragged off between Grimm teeth—were always shot and killed.</p>
<hr/><p>“Listen, buddy,” Qrow sighs, holding his glass away from his mouth so he could be heard clearly, “I’m not taking commissioned hunts right now. Thanks, but no thanks.”</p><p>The stranger had only asked if he was Qrow Branwen of Team STRQ. Which, while not exactly rude, was not the kind of question Qrow had entered a bar to hear. He’d only just finished a hunt for Oz, something he had to keep on the downlow to prevent widespread panic about how close the Grimm den had been to the city, and he was still aching and bruised and sore.</p><p>“Actually,” the stranger says, still sounding chipper for someone who’d already gotten rejected, “I was wondering if you might be interested in a temporary partnership.”</p><p>Qrow pauses and glances over. Mistake number one. The stranger is devastatingly handsome, with short chestnut hair and vibrant green eyes and a set of absolutely ridiculous…shoulders. Ridiculous shoulders. Qrow drags his eyes back up to meet the man’s gaze and says, “Kinda doing a solo act right now. Aren’t you part of a guild? You should be asking for someone there.”</p><p>The man nods. “I am,” he answers. “But I’m on a hunt that requires some…stealth and finesse. My team and guild are better suited to uh…flashier things. I hear that when it comes to a delicate touch, you’re the best.”</p><p>Qrow huffs. “The best,” he mutters, sipping his whiskey. </p><p>The man watches him, then takes a seat at the bar beside him. Qrow thinks about telling him off, but doesn’t. Mistake number two. The man asks, “Are you saying there’s someone better than you out there? Because I’ve done my research, and I’m going to have to call that a lie. Every guild within a hundred miles says you finish jobs more quietly than any other huntsman.”</p><p>“Obviously not <em> that </em>quietly, if everyone’s talking about it,” Qrow mutters. He takes another drink. “I told you I’m not taking commissions right now. Buzz off.”</p><p>“This isn’t a commission,” the man insists. “This is—”</p><p>“What, justice?” Qrow interrupts. He slides a glare in the man’s direction. “Some Grimm getting the better of local hunters? You want me, specifically, for a serial biter?”</p><p>The man’s brows knit in frustration. They’re damn near perfect brows. His lashes are pretty too, so long they nearly flutter against high cheekbones when he blinks. He says, “No. This is revenge, plain and simple.”</p><p>That gives Qrow a pause. “Revenge,” he repeats.</p><p>The man nods, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice. He sounds like smooth honey, like cream coffee with cinnamon on top. “I’m hunting a Were. The guy got bit a few years ago and hasn’t exactly been upset about it. Word is he’s been getting pushy with victims, like he’s building his own pack.” The man’s frown deepens. “Personally, I don’t think he’s the one pulling the strings here, but that’s not my concern till I’m getting paid for it. This Were killed my baby sister and I want him dead.”</p><p>Killed, he says, which Qrow thinks is odd if there Were’s goal is to build a pack. He wonders if the guy means his sister was bitten, and he’d had to shoot her. He decides he’d rather not ask. Instead, he murmurs, “I’m sorry for your loss.”</p><p>“Thank you,” the man says, too earnest for someone who’s probably heard that a million times now.</p><p>It throws Qrow off. After a pause, he adds, “I don’t work for free, though.”</p><p>“Not free,” the man corrects. “I plan to post a job for him myself, but I want to work with the hunter who takes it. I want to be there for this. Trouble is, this guy’s killed multiple people who took jobs for him before, which is why I need somebody who works quietly. I don’t need him bolting. Or coming after us.”</p><p>“So, what, you post the job and I take it the minute you do so it doesn’t get announced?” </p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Qrow sighs and rubs his temples. “A job like this can take a long time, and I’m not in the habit of putting outside jobs before guild work.”</p><p>“That’s fine,” the man says. </p><p>“You aren’t worried about the trail going cold?”</p><p>The man purses his lips. “As of late, he seems to warm it right back up pretty quickly. I can keep to tracking him if you need to split for a job. I’m even willing to do guildwork with you for no pay, if that’s what it takes.”</p><p>That, Qrow finds hard to believe. Nobody works for no pay. Still, the man’s eyes are...honest. Hard and determined, but honest. Qrow says, “You really want to put this guy down.”</p><p>The man nods. “More than anything.”</p><p>He shouldn’t accept this job. It’s got trouble written all over it. Revenge jobs are always messy. No matter how clear headed this guy seems, the probability that he’ll keep his wits when it comes down to it is slim to none. Beyond that, working with someone from another guild involves a shit ton of paperwork that Qrow isn’t interested in. Travel time and requests for guild funds for the trip alone are enough to make this not worth it.</p><p>Qrow sighs and finishes off his drink, then stands up. “Look,” he says flatly, “you requesting my services is a nice pat on the ego, but like I said, I’m flying solo right now. So good luck and all, but I’m not interested.”</p><p>He turns away. Not fast enough, apparently, because the man catches his wrist. Qrow whirls, ready to put him on the ground, but the man’s expression has him stopping short.</p><p>Mistake number three.</p><p>“Please,” the man says. His eyes are shining, the lines of his throat tight. “Please. I’m desperate.”</p><p>Qrow stares at him. This job is going to be a mess, and he knows it, and it’s not just because the guy is maybe the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on or because he has a voice like silk. </p><p>The man’s fingers tighten on his wrist, almost imperceptibly. “I’m begging,” he says, quiet enough that it puts a little twinge in Qrow’s heart. </p><p>He thinks about Summer. And, possibly because he’s a terrible, sentimental fool, he says, “Alright.”</p>
<hr/><p>The man’s name is Clover.</p><p>It’s a fitting name, Qrow quickly discovers. Despite the show of emotion at the bar, the guy practically radiates optimism. Which, if you ask Qrow, is weird in their line of work. He’s personally gotten used to having a resting bitch face, but his new partner has a smile that could turn flowers.</p><p>He’s still, Qrow notices frequently, stupidly pretty.</p><p>As per their contract, the job is kept quiet. Qrow informs Ozpin that he’s taking it, since he has to file paperwork (so much fucking paperwork) for it, and lets Taiyang and his nieces know he’s leaving for a while, but doesn’t tell them where. To avoid questions, Clover picks Qrow up in front of his apartment in his own car (which is nice, but relatively unnoticeable) instead of a guild issued one.</p><p>“You need help with your bags?” Clover asks, already climbing out of the car.</p><p>“No,” Qrow answers. He’s packed less than Clover has, but still has to shove things into the trunk with Harbinger being the size that it is even in compact mode. </p><p>Clover shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, leaning against the door. </p><p>Qrow shuts the trunk a moment later, unsure of why Clover’s eyes on him feel a little unsettling. “You got any stops to make?” he asks.</p><p>Clover shakes his head, then pauses and corrects himself. “A few. But not for a while into the drive. I figured we could take up a few small errands before we get into hunting that Were. Y’know, to get to know each other some.”</p><p>Qrow wrinkles his nose. “You make this sound like some kind of buddy road trip,” he mutters, climbing into the passenger seat.</p><p>“Not trying to,” Clover tells him as he climbs in the driver’s side. “Just thought we ought to learn how the other fights before we get into a real hunt.”</p><p>Qrow glances at him as he pulls his seatbelt into place. “That’s smart,” he admits.</p><p>Clover shrugs and shifts into drive. “It’s common in my guild when new teams get formed.”</p><p>Qrow frowns and turns to look out the window, watching apartment buildings go by with gradually increasing speed. “I haven’t been on a team in a long time,” he murmurs.</p><p>“That’s a shame,” Clover replies, and then it’s quiet for a while.</p><p>Clover, as it turns out, is from the Atlas Guild, which explains just about everything about his request. Jimmy’s Hunters are good, no doubt, but they’re also considered the noisiest, showiest guild in Remnant. It’s larger than Beacon in terms of sheer numbers (though their true Elite numbered roughly the same), but they’re really known for their wealth and technology. Their headcount is nearly doubled by automated defense (money that Qrow feels would better go towards communities) and their Dust resource pool is unrivaled.</p><p>Qrow had only worked with a handful of their Hunters before. Most of them tended to get too big for their britches, and were stuffy and superior besides. Clover seems…different, somehow. He has the whole boy scout look going for him, sure, but he seems to have more moxy than what Qrow would’ve expected out of an Atlesian Hunter. </p><p>Maybe his sister’s death had hardened him in some way. Whatever the reason, he’s still earnest, albeit a little guarded.</p><p>Qrow of all people can’t fault him for that.</p><p>“You mind if I play music?” Clover asks.</p><p>Qrow glances up. “Uh,” he says, certain that their music tastes don’t align, “Sure.” </p><p>He expects something preppy. Something to suit that boyish optimism. Instead, he gets angry punk rock. </p><p>Qrow shoots him a look that Clover misses while he cranks up the volume. Qrow knows the song, can’t help tapping his fingers against the armrest a few lines in. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Clover glance at him and smile.</p><p>Which doesn’t mean anything. Clover’s cute and all, but Qrow didn’t come on this trip for the purpose of making friends. This is a job, nothing more.</p><p>Even though he’s really…really attractive.</p><p>“So,” Clover says casually, interrupting Qrow’s train of thought, “Anybody waiting for you back in that apartment?”</p><p>Qrow blinks. “What, like family? No, I uh…I’m not married. Got a brother-in-law and my nieces in Patch, but uh…that’s pretty much it.” He doesn’t mention Raven. Raven doesn’t get a fucking mention, at least not to the guy who’s chasing a serial biter to avenge his own sister.</p><p>“What are their names?”</p><p>“Ruby and Yang.” Qrow wonders if this hurts to talk about. “Taiyang…you know of him, I’m guessing. He’s their dad.”</p><p>“Xiao Long?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Right, right. He quit hunting, didn’t he?”</p><p>Qrow exhales. “Uh, yeah. After Summer Rose went MIA.”</p><p>Clover glances over once. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s been a long time.”</p><p>“Doesn’t hurt any less.”</p><p>They go quiet. Then, from Clover: “Your sister was the last member, wasn’t she?”</p><p>Qrow grunts in confirmation.</p><p>“Sorry. Touchy subject?”</p><p>Qrow exhales. “A little. Not exactly a family woman, is all.” </p><p>Clover hums quietly. “My sister and I…” he pauses, hesitant. When Qrow doesn’t stop him, he finishes, “We weren’t super close or anything like that. But she was the last bit of family I had…and she was still my kid sister, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Qrow mutters. Instead of Raven, he thinks about Summer. He thinks about Yang wondering where her super mom was and Ruby growing up without one. He remembers when MIA got switched over to KIA. “Yeah, I know.”</p><p>It’s quiet again. Then, from Qrow: “What was your sister’s name?”</p><p>“Jade,” Clover murmurs. “Her name was Jade.”</p>
<hr/><p>“The job’s local,” Clover says as they park at the edge of a thick forest. “Small pack, apparently. There’s a town about a half hour west of here that got attacked a few days ago. Last sighting tracked them to this forest, but no den’s been located yet.”</p><p>Qrow climbs out of the car and eyes the treeline. Even from here, he can see claw marks left in tree bark from where the Grimmwolves had lumbered past on two legs. He pats the side of the car and waits for Clover to unlock the trunk, then pulls out Harbinger and clips it to his belt at the small of his back. “How many is ‘small’?”</p><p>“Seven, maybe eight,” Clover answers. He reaches into one of his duffle bags and pulls out a small case. The compacted weapon he takes from it is…odd.</p><p>“Is that a fishing pole?” Qrow blurts.</p><p>Clover glances up, a grin playing at the edge of his mouth. His…full mouth. “Yeah,” he answers. “Don’t worry, it handles Grimm just fine.”</p><p>“But is it—” Qrow motions at it vaguely. “Is it a sword? Or a gun?” </p><p>“Nope,” Clover says cheerfully, hooking it on his belt. He cocks his head, then sticks his hands in his pockets and heads for the woods. “Come on, better get started while we’ve still got daylight.”</p><p>They track heavy paw prints and more claw marks, tufts of fur and plants stomped and lain over, nudging each other and pointing things out. It’s an hour before they come to steep landscapes, the rock and soil built and layered in craggy foundations. The paw prints are numerous here.</p><p>“What do you need from me while we fight?” Clover asks as they track, voice low so they won't attract attention.</p><p>“Stay out of my way,” Qrow answers simply. “My weapon has a wide berth and I already have to mind the foliage. Last thing I need is to worry about cleaving a person in half, too.”</p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>There's a pause. Then, feeling a little sheepish, Qrow asks, “What about you?”</p><p>Clover grins. “I'm pretty versatile. Don't worry about me.”</p><p>Qrow raises a brow and starts to say something in reply, but cuts himself off and holds out a hand to stop Clover when he spots a dark spot at the base, a ways off still.</p><p><em> You sign? </em>he asks, turning to motion with his hands.</p><p>Clover nods, then signs back, <em> hear anything? </em></p><p>Qrow shakes his head, glancing up at the sky. Above the treetops, the sky bleeds purple, but through the treeline, sunlight still peeks between the foliage. They’ve got a half hour before the Grimmwolves are awake and alert. <em> Den that way, </em> he says. <em> Dug under the rock.  </em></p><p><em> You want to take point, or me? </em>Clover asks.</p><p>Qrow eyes Clover’s weapon again and can’t help raising his brow. This is hardly the terrain for a fishing line, if you ask him. Clover just grins in response, then stalks forward, apparently answering his own question.</p><p>Qrow follows after him from a distance, drawing Harbinger into scythe form before they get close. Clover creeps all the way to the mouth of the den and draws something from his pocket, then lobs it in and presses himself against the rock. His weapon flicks into active mode in his hand, the hook at the end massive and sharp and gleaming as Clover takes the line in his hand and twirls it.</p><p>In the den, there’s a small explosion and a huge puff of smoke. Inside, the Grimm yelp in surprise and stumble, half-awake and groggy, out of their den.</p><p>Qrow’s eyes go wide as Clover suddenly flings his hook into the first Grimm’s shoulder, then pulls sharply and sends it crashing into its packmates. The Grimm he hooked yowls and fades into dust.</p><p><em> Silver, </em>Qrow thinks in awe, and lunges forward.</p><p>Clover reels his line in halfway with a click of a button and flings it right back out. More Grimm fumble their way out and swipe at him, but Clover’s hook slices expertly at their throats and chest. Between cutting through his own targets, Qrow marvels at his precision, at his speed, at the way he hardly seems pressed by each attacking beast. </p><p>In just a few minutes, they fall into a rhythm. Qrow’s almost startled at how easy it is; Clover fits into his space without getting in his way, even uses his line to throw Grimmwolves into Qrow’s range, and when Qrow clicks Harbinger into sword mode to block the claws of a beast, Clover is always ready to snap his silver hook into it’s flesh. </p><p>When the last beast dissolves into dust, Qrow folds Harbinger back into compact mode and returns it to his belt. “That was quite a show,” he compliments, nodding towards the fishing pole. “Your weapon. What’s it called?”</p><p>Clover grins, clearly pleased, and folds it back down and hooks it at his side. “Thanks,” he says. “And it’s called Kingfisher.”</p><p>Qrow smiles. “Like the bird?”</p><p>“Like the bird.” Clover’s grin turns a little softer, just a bit, and he tilts his head. “Gotta say, seeing Qrow Branwen in action was a treat all on it’s own.”</p><p>Qrow flushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh…thanks.” He hesitates, then says, “We make a pretty good team, huh?”</p><p>Somehow, Clover’s smile just gets bigger. “We do,” he agrees, then winks and cocks his head back in the direction they came. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before it gets dark.”</p><p>They travel for a few more weeks, gathering intel on that Were Clover’s hunting and taking odd jobs, before Qrow is called back to his own guild to take a job for Oz. In their travels, they grow to be fast friends quickly, find more in common the longer they speak, fit into each other’s routines and learn each other’s mannerisms, ticks, and habits. Qrow doesn’t even have time to drink, between all the moving and the hunts and spending time in his new partner’s company.</p><p>When Qrow goes back to Beacon to take a job for Oz, Clover goes with him. And when Clover leaves to begin tracking his mark again, Qrow goes too.</p><p>The cross-guild paperwork Qrow has to file over the next three years is absolute <em> ass. </em></p>
<hr/><p>“I have another lead,” Clover says.</p><p>Qrow drops his head back against the couch. “You can’t just walk into my house,” he says.</p><p>Clover leans over him and grins. “Kick me out, then.”</p><p>Qrow scowls.</p><p>“That’s what I thought,” Clover says, satisfied. He reaches down to pat Qrow’s chest good-naturedly and turns away to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “C’mon, up and at ‘em. I’m already packed up.”</p><p>“Get out of my chips,” Qrow calls back, and only gets an obnoxiously noisy <em> crunch </em>in return.</p><p>He sighs and rises, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders, the news playing on the television forgotten. “Where’s the mark this time?” he asks, heading towards his room.</p><p>“Closest civilization is a little village town called Higanbana. You heard of it?”</p><p>“Been there once. Whiskey kind of sucked. Cute waitresses, though.” </p><p>Clover makes an overexaggerated gagging sound. Qrow laughs and throws on a jacket, picks up two stuffed duffles and makes a pit stop by his bathroom to toss in toiletries already packed away in a ziplock bag before moseying into the kitchen. Clover, leaning back against the counter with his one leg crossed over the other, blinks at him as he enters, then tosses another chip into his mouth. After he swallows, he asks, “How’d you pack that fast?”</p><p>Qrow feels himself grinning all crooked. He can’t help it. Clover’s been fun to tease since…day three, maybe, since Qrow was busy sulking about paperwork for days one and two. “I packed last night.”</p><p>“Right after I texted you?”</p><p>“Mmhmm.”</p><p>“All I said was ‘I’m coming over tomorrow’.”</p><p>“Which you do without texting,” Qrow says matter-of-factly, as he drops his bag on the floor and reaches into the bag of chips, “unless you’ve got a job lined up. So yeah, I packed.”</p><p>Clover flushes. He’s so damn pretty. Qrow winks and pops a chip into his mouth, then snatches the bag while Clover’s busy gaping at him. “Didn’t I tell you to get out of my chips?”</p><p>“You buy my favorite on purpose,” Clover complains, tipping his chin up as Qrow reaches across him to toss it back into the cabinet.</p><p>“You can’t prove that,” Qrow tells him, stepping away to pick up his bags again. “Quit pouting, let’s get a move on.”</p><p>Clover mutters something under his breath and takes one of Qrow’s bags before he can heft it over his shoulder. Qrow flashes him a grateful, teasing smile, and Clover’s mouth twitches, nearly breaking his pout.</p><p>They start the drive with the windows down, wind raking through their hair and stealing their voices as they sing out lyrics to one of Qrow’s blaring playlists. As lunch rolls around they stop at an 80’s diner and feast on over-greasy burgers and too-salted fries, and by dinnertime they’ve reached Higanbana. </p><p>“Damn,” Qrow whistles as they park and climb out of the car. “This place has gotten worse. Used to at least be a family restaurant here.”</p><p>“Grimm sightings have been getting worse the last few years,” Clover says, scanning the town. The place is downright depressing, houses either rundown or left empty, streets grimy and unswept, shops with broken windows and spray painted walls. As if that isn’t dreary enough, storm clouds are rolling in from the south, painting the sky a bleak gray that’s only made worse by the fading daylight. “Town can’t afford to keep hiring Hunters, so they have to just wait for a party to wander by on guild pay at the right time or pack up and ship out.”</p><p>Qrow moves to stand beside him, hands in his pockets. “So this is another one of your charity cases,” he says fondly.</p><p>“No!” Clover objects, though he looks sheepish. “Our Were was spotted here recently. Killed someone in the tavern.”</p><p>Qrow raises a brow in amusement. <em>Their Were. Their hunt.</em> Clover’s been saying that a long time, but it somehow never gets old. Qrow always knew this job would be trouble. “But you want to clear out some of those packs while we’re here, don’t you.”</p><p>“Well—” </p><p>“Pop the trunk, boy scout,” Qrow snorts. “If we’re getting up at ass o’clock in the morning, I want to get to bed.”</p><p>Clover huffs a laugh and takes out his keys. “Hey, we could get lucky this time. This area’s a good place to lay low in between kill sprees.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Qrow allows, taking out the bag with his clothes and passing Clover his. “If we’re lucky.”</p><p>In the inn, the innkeeper tiredly informs them that the few rooms they had have fallen into various states of disrepair. “There’s only two presentable ones left,” she says. “And one is taken.”</p><p>Clover blinks, then flashes Qrow a questioning look. Higanbana is as far as they can go with the car, so they’ve got a tent packed in case they don’t make it to the last known sighting by nightfall. But it’s already dark, and thunder’s rolling in the distance, getting ever closer.</p><p>“We’ll take the one,” Qrow says, and he can’t help noticing that Clover lingers by the desk a moment even after the clerk hands him the key.</p><p>The room is small and almost…creepy, between the low lamplight and the way the whole building creaks with age. There’s one bed placed against the center of the right wall with a nightstand on each side, and across from it is a chipped dresser with crooked drawers that looks like it’s seen better days. There’s a second door just past the doorway with a faded knob and slightly rusted hinges that leads to the bathroom; Qrow hesitantly pushes it open and discovers it’s just as old and barely kept as the rest of the room.</p><p>He shrugs and walks over to the bed, dropping his bag on the floor beside it. “I’ve seen worse,” he says.</p><p>Clover just sighs and moves to the other side of the bed, dropping his bag there before he sits down. The bed creaks loudly under his weight, and they both wince.</p><p>“Between this and your snoring—” Qrow starts.</p><p>“I don’t snore!” Clover laughs, kicking off his shoes and falling back to the bed, pillowing his hands under his head while the mattress squeaks in protest. “You say that every time we stay somewhere.”</p><p>Qrow reaches over to tweak his nose. “Wonder why,” he asks, laughing when Clover bats his hand away, then shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on the bedpost. “Tell me about the lead again.”</p><p>Clover glances over as Qrow toes off his shoes and lays down with his head propped up on his hand, then stares up at the ceiling. “A small party of Mistral Hunters passed through here maybe two weeks ago,” he says. "They’d been on their way to another job when our Were showed up and nearly destroyed the bar. He bit a waitress and bolted, the Hunters killed her, then started tracking the Were into the woods, way out near an abandoned settlement called Oniyuri. Apparently, they never showed up for that scheduled job of theirs.”</p><p>Qrow hums, drumming his fingers on the bed. “Might be the closest we’ve gotten,” he murmurs.</p><p>“Might be,” Clover agrees.</p><p>Qrow hesitates, eyes flitting over Clover’s face. Clover looks at him again, something heavy in his green eyes. </p><p>He’s still arguably the prettiest man Qrow’s had the pleasure of laying eyes on. And this isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed, isn’t the first time Qrow’s thought about pressing close under the covers and kissing him. But god, this venue is a terrible place to potentially wreck the best partnership he’s had since STRQ, the best friendship he’s had since…since Summer.</p><p>Maybe another time.</p><p>“How are you feeling about it?” Qrow asks after a moment.</p><p>Clover inhales slowly, exhales a little shakily. “Uh…nervous, I guess. Seems like I’ve been chasing this guy for…a long damn time. Part of me worries I might lose my head when it happens.”</p><p>“You’ve never lost your head,” Qrow says gently.</p><p>“I’ve never fought my sister’s killer, either,” Clover mutters, rolling onto his side to face Qrow. “I don’t know what I’m going to do after this.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I mean…” Clover trails off, drops his gaze, then finishes quietly, “I don’t know. I should probably take some time off to work through…” he waves his hand vaguely, “grief and closure and all that. And then…I guess there’s not much reason to keep doing cross-guild work if we don’t have a mutual target.”</p><p>Qrow goes quiet. This is something he’s thought of before too, the idea that once they succeed, he won’t need to keep working with Clover. There’d be no reason for all the travel time, the mountains of paperwork, the extra stray jobs. Clover would return to the Atlas Guild, to his usual team, and that would be that.</p><p>After a moment, he asks, “Isn’t the fact that we like to enough of a reason?”    </p><p>Clover meets his eyes again. “...Is it?”</p><p>Qrow chews his lip. “It is for me,” he answers.</p><p>A smile tugs at the edge of Clover’s mouth, bittersweet. “You hate paperwork,” he says.</p><p>“Well…yeah.”</p><p>“You want to keep doing it?”</p><p>“Not really,” Qrow admits.</p><p>Clover lets out an amused huff of breath. “Are you asking me to be official, then?” </p><p>“Oz would welcome you,” Qrow says, sure of himself. “He’s been trying to assign me a new team since Summer had Ruby. And you’re uh…not especially close with your team, are you?”</p><p>“Not especially,” Clover muses.</p><p>“So you could transfer to the Beacon Guild, if you wanted,” Qrow says, caught off guard by the hope in his own voice. “Start up a new team. With me.”</p><p>The humor falls from Clover’s face in favor of a soft sort of surprise, eyes searching Qrow’s face and his mouth left hanging open slightly. Qrow wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him badly. Clover breathes, “You’re really asking.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Qrow says honestly. “Yeah, I am.”</p><p>There’s a long pause. Clover drops his eyes again, thinking it over, and Qrow just watches him, patient and antsy all at once. He’s never had to ask anyone for a partnership; Clover had been the only person to come to him, and every other time, Oz had assigned him his partners, his teammates. His stomach is doing flips, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. If Clover says no—</p><p>“What’s your rent like?” Clover asks.</p><p>Qrow blinks, then snorts, something giddy welling in his chest. “Not bad. But on two Hunter salaries, we could afford something way better than my place.”</p><p>Clover grins. “I’m going to eat <em> all </em>your chips,” he says.</p><p>“If we’re sharing a kitchen, I’m not going to buy them anymore,” Qrow challenges. “You’ll have to get them yourself.”</p><p>“I’ll eat your secret chocolate stash, too.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t.”</p><p>“I would.”</p><p>“God. I believe you.” Qrow sits up and shoves Clover’s shoulder, endeared by Clover’s laughter, then fishes a pair of sweatpants out of his duffle bag. “I’m gonna change. We’ve got a long day tomorrow and I want to be asleep ten minutes ago.”</p><p>Clover’s still grinning as he sits up and turns away, and if Qrow looks over his shoulder to watch the muscles of his back flex as he pulls his shirt over his head, it’s only because he can’t help it.</p><p>He looks away sharply when Clover glances back at him, but not quickly enough to completely avoid eye contact. Neither of them say anything. They change into sweatpants without any further looks, and climb under itchy covers after Qrow blows out the lamp.</p><p>“Qrow,” Clover whispers in the dark, after they’ve settled into some unfinished silence.</p><p>“Yeah?” Qrow whispers back.</p><p>“Thank you,” Clover says. “For inviting me. And…for coming with me all this time.”</p><p>“Don’t thank me for that,” Qrow murmurs, and then, because he feels too warm and because he doesn’t want to say something embarrassing, he adds, “‘Night, Cloves.”</p><p>“‘Night,” Clover replies.</p><p>Early the next morning, Qrow wakes and finds that Clover’s rolled closer in his sleep, cheek squished against Qrow’s shoulder and a quiet snore coming out of his mouth. Qrow feels fit to burst with affection, and he pinches Clover’s nose until he startles awake and starts complaining. </p><p>They eat breakfast at the tavern across the street and briefly return to the inn to shower in scent-free soap, then head out on foot towards Oniyuri, weapons in hand, camping gear on their backs, and hoods pulled up as the storm from the night before finally begins in drizzles.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: Jade plants are considered good luck.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>IMPORTANT NOTES, FEATURING WARNINGS AND SPOILERS</b>
</p>
<p>Notes put in rot13 code for those who wish to go in blind. Translator can be found <a>here</a>.</p>
<p>Abobql Bs Vzcbegnapr Qvrf. Ubjrire, gur pbagrag bs guvf puncgre unf cbgragvnyyl gevttrevat pbagrag, nf gurer vf n <i>creprvirq</i> qrngu naq n tevrivat cebprff. Ohg ab bar bs vzcbegnapr vf ernyyl qrnq, fb cyrnfr gehfg zr ba gung.</p>
<p><b>This chapter is extremely gorey and violent.</b> Appropriate tags have been added. If you are squeamish, I suggest you start skimming once the boys finish setting up camp.</p>
<p>I promise I always write happy endings. </p>
<p>Music for this chapter: <br/><a>Lover of Mine</a> and <a>High</a> by 5 Seconds of Summer.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thunder rumbles in low tenor across the sky, the sun hidden by thick, rolling black clouds. If they weren’t on a time sensitive hunt, Qrow would insist they stop and set up camp. But this is the closest they’ve ever been, and Clover’s broad shoulders have been squared since they left the inn, and his jaw is set like a man on a mission, and so they don’t stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blood here,” Qrow calls, drifting away from the path to investigate. Clover stops, then follows him over, and they both crouch at a red splatter in the mud, puddled lightly in a misshapen boot print and pinkened as the faint drizzle of rain starts to mix with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One of the Hunters,” Clover murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A scratch, looks like,” Qrow agrees quietly, plucking a sliver of fabric from patchy, crushed grass. It’s soiled red, and blood spots uprooted and torn blades of grass around it. To the left of the human tracks, there’s an imprint of claws and padded feet. Qrow motions at the way the foot prints get a little more even and distinct a little ways ahead; the Were had taken off, and the Hunter had kept running after it. “You smell anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover’s brow furrows. He stands up, green eyes scanning the forest. The trees aren’t too thick here, but there’s enough to provide miniscule cover, and that would make any Hunter worth their salt a little wary. “Just rain,” he answers. Under his cloak, he tugs at the bandana tied around his arm, a clear sign of nerves. “Lets get a move on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They press on, following a fast fading trail of blood and tracks that nearly disappear as the forest around them grows thicker. Oniyuri is about six hours from Higanbana on foot, and they can only hurry so much while tracking at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow tries not to let the unease wash over him as they walk. Clover is usually the more optimistic of the two of them, but Qrow will be his rock as he needs it, and will be at his side to keep him steady as he asks for it. Still, his resolve to help Clover keep his head on straight doesn’t erase his own feelings of apprehension; this is the best opportunity to kill this Were yet, and that might be enough to account for how much this feels like courting danger even in their line of work, but Qrow has never been one to dismiss gut feelings as chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three hours in, as thunder cracks loudly behind them, Qrow finally says, “Cloves, we should set up camp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover pauses and glances back at the darkening sky, mouth pressed into a thin line and the lines of his body taut. “We’ll lose the trail if it starts pouring,” he says, worrying his lip as he turns back towards their path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And if we do, we’ll want shelter to already be in place,” Qrow points out. He hesitates, then reaches out and touches Clover’s arm, fingers light against the crook of his elbow. “Hey,” he says gently. “We’ll catch up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover exhales, then meets his gaze. Between the worry held there, the pinch of his brows, and the tired lines under his eyes, Qrow’s left wondering how much Clover actually slept the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Clover concedes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pitch their tent a little ways off the trail, where the grass is thicker and the soil hasn’t been reduced to slippery mush. For now, they haphazardly unroll their sleeping bags and toss in what gear they won’t need to carry: most of the food they brought, their weapons cases, the car keys. They tuck protein bars and spare ammunition into fanny packs, tie water canteens to their belts, and draw their hoods up once more, weapons clipped in place and knives at their thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you good?” Qrow asks as they pull their hoods up again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clover replies absently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clover.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover sighs, then smiles genuinely even for the worry there, and climbs out of the tent. “I’m always good when you’re with me,” he says, offering his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow blinks, then shakes his head and takes Clover’s hand, a faint flush across his cheeks and a helpless grin at his mouth. “You’re so cheesy,” he says, fond.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like it,” Clover replies, leaving little room for argument. Qrow scoffs anyways, just to be contrary, and he gets a laugh in return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They set out again. The stop seems to have done Clover some good; he seems more clear-headed now, more determined than tense. Still, Qrow keeps a careful eye on him while they move, and he keeps a watchful eye out for Grimm, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five hours into their journey: the woods thin out again, the trail of boots and paw prints turns messy again, and the smell hits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The damp air has a sour twist of rot in its scent, and it leaves a faint taste of copper on the back of their tongues. Both of them wrinkle their noses and glance at each other, drawing their weapons as they follow growing splatters of blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watch your six,” Clover whispers as they fan out. Qrow nods, signs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>be careful, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and starts searching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s crouched by a tree, thumbing lightly over a splinter in the wood where a bullet had ricocheted into the bark, when Clover lets out a quiet whistle, mimicking a songbird. Qrow glances over his shoulder and rises when he sees Clover’s expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s wrong? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he signs, rushing over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Body, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clover signs back. He swallows, brows knitting as he glances back into the brush. This close, the smell is putrid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dead a while.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow follows his gaze and steps towards the bushes for a look, but Clover holds an arm out to stop him and turns him away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s bad, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t see much.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow frowns, but nods and follows when Clover presses on to follow the signs of a scuffle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One of the Hunters?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jacket was from Mistral, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clover replies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Looked like some ribs were snapped. Not sure if it was the Were or scavengers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Any sign of rank?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover wrinkles his nose and looks away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t get close enough to look for it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow frowns. This Were has been unusual from the start; most don’t live long enough to be serial biters in the first place, but to evade and kill Hunters? Civilian murders were one thing, but to rip a Hunter to pieces even when the Hunter was accompanied by a team?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To say they were dealing with a monster was an understatement. All he can hope at this point is that the Mistral Hunters weren’t elite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ve only walked a few more minutes when they find another body, torn open in the same way as the first. Along a trail of heavy boot prints and bloody paws comes a third and fourth, killed hardly a few feet from each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover stops short.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow glances over at him, then takes his hand and squeezes it; Clover meets his eyes and squeezes back. Qrow nods once, then steps away. He hooks Harbinger at his belt and crouches over the third body, pulling up his shirt over his nose to combat the smell as he examines it. This kill is cleaner than the first two, eaten up by animals where all the meat used to be, covered in maggots and swarmed by flies, but what’s left of the throat is torn open in gashes, and the grass around the body is stained red close to the root. On the ratty jacket, there’s a sew-on patch of a Mistral crest, stitched in yellow thread.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bled out, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he signs as he rises, frowning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gold rank.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Another worry; he and Clover are both ranked Platinum, but taking down an entire team of Gold Hunters is no small feat, especially for one Were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances towards the fourth body, then heads towards it. This one, he doesn’t need to look at closely. The limbs are longer than could pass for normal, the fingernails sharp and the now loose teeth feature pointed canines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow sighs and beckons Clover on, then sidesteps the body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bite, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he signs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Died before the transformation finished.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover drags his hand over his jaw, fingers flexing on Kingfisher’s handle. “Shit,” he whispers, near silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow cocks his head and reaches out, taking Clover’s arm and tugging him away from the corpses. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prints lead this way, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Might be more Grimm around. Be careful. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover nods and lets Kingfisher’s line drop into his hand. Qrow clicks Harbinger into scythe mode, and they follow after bloody prints until they shift into faint outlines of human feet and eventually disappear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just a few yards ahead of them stands the crumbling gate of Oniyuri.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both of them exhale slowly, steeling their nerves. Qrow turns to study Clover’s profile; he is determined and angry, focused and sure, shoulders squared and his jaw set. He looks ready, and he doesn’t look back at Qrow this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it would be too much. Qrow knows all too well what it’s like to feel seen when trying to keep it together, so he doesn’t press.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oniyuri is quiet, eerie. The wind picks up as the storm comes nearer, the old stone paths of the town speckled with damp marks from the drizzling rain. Old wood creaks from the rooftops, aged and weather-worn, half-finished and left behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a sorry sight, but if a Were wanted shelter, this would be the best place to get it this far from a city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow bites his lip, eyes flitting over every crevice and corner a creature might hide in, hands tight on Harbinger’s snath. He still doesn’t have a good feeling about this. He expects to hear a sound at any given moment: a scrape of claws, the snap of a twig or the faint crunch of old leaves, a growl, anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He certainly doesn’t expect </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughter, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a quiet chuckle that sharply careens into a high laugh that makes Qrow’s hair stand on end, and then goes silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside him, Clover briefly goes still, then bolts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Qrow breathes, then takes off after him. “Clover! Clover, stop!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ahead, the Were rushes out into the street, already hunched over and changing. He’s tall and lanky as a human and lankier still for a wolf, fur thin and patchy despite the long braid that hangs over his shoulder. His clothes hang ratty and stretched over his body, only going taut as his form grows, white and soiled with old blood. Wild, gleeful eyes gleam yellow and bright as the sky rapidly darkens, teeth bared in what could almost pass for a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Were takes a look at them, purposeful, then turns and takes off down the empty street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bait, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Qrow thinks immediately. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s bait. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Clover! Stop, goddammit! It’s luring you!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover doesn’t stop, his hook gleaming in his fist as he sprints. Qrow lengthens his stride as much as he’s able, but Clover isn’t burdened by a heavy weapon and has eyes on the most important hunt of his life, and Qrow can only gain the barest of ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, he catches movement. Qrow’s heart leaps up into his throat, and he feels like he picks up speed out of sheer desperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In what used to be the town square, the Were skids to a stop. Clover rushes him, twirling his line and slinging his hook forward. The Were dodges it, and Clover flings his arm back, snapping the line taut again and leaving a smoking gash across the Were’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It yowls, blood blossoming from the wound. Birds scatter from the trees at the sound, and from the shadows, hulking, growling shapes mosey sleepily into the open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clover!” Qrow shouts, and dives forward just in time to cleave a Grimm in half before it leaps for Clover’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover startles, jumping back and immediately getting his attention stolen as the Were snaps teeth just shy of his arm. He reels in his line with a click of a button and stabs the hook towards the Were’s throat; the Were reels back to avoid the silver and ends up with another cut on his chest instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow tears open a Grimm’s shoulder and whirls to slice into the throat of another. The place is a whole damn den of them, and the pack is large. Each one he cuts down seems to have a packmate to replace it, and they’re only coming out faster as the noise of battle and the scent of distress in the air wakes them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seven o’clock!” Qrow yells as one slips past him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover looks over his left shoulder in time to duck under swiping paws and casts his line out to cut into the Grimm’s flank, then brings Kingfisher’s rod up just in time to parry the Were’s reaching claws. “Four!” he calls back through his teeth, and Qrow whirls on a dime to carve up into a Grimm’s belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, there are more. Qrow realizes now that his feelings of unease were signs that he was being led, that the Were knew all these Grimm nested here and only fanned out towards Higanbana to feed. Even one wrong move would mean getting swarmed by Grimm, and then he’d be dead, and no one would protect Clover while he fought the Were. Spurred on by the terror, this thought brings a renewed heat to his blows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nearby, Clover sends his line curling around the Were’s waist with a flick of his wrist. Qrow has the barest moment to watch as the next wave of Grimm lumbers slowly from their hiding places. The hook digs into the creature’s flesh, leaving an angry red line in his fur...and then the Were grabs the hook with his bare, padded fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover’s eyes go wide. The Were yanks on the line, snarling as his skin smokes and blood drips to the cobblestone, and Kingfisher goes flying out of Clover’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But not before the force pulls him forward—in his brief stumble, the Were lunges forward and bites into his right shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover screams, and Qrow’s heart stops in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” he cries, and has only just turned to run for them when a Grimm brings its paws down on Harbinger. Thunder cracks overhead in time with the blow, and rain suddenly comes pouring down in torrents. Harbinger’s snath turns slick in his hands, and he tightens his fingers around the black grips before shoving the Grimm back and slitting its throat. “Clover!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Were flings Clover to the ground, his blood splattering against sharp teeth. Clover cries out in pain and fumbles at his thigh for his knife. He brings it up to stab into the Were’s muzzle, but the Were flings his paw into the blade instead, letting out a muffled yelp and a snarl as the knife sinks in. Out of options now, Clover punches into the Were’s snout with two rapid hits, but the Were only jolts and lets out a high whimper before biting down hard again, crossing an arm over Clover’s chest to tighten in his shirt and stop him from striking again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow rushes for them, clicking Harbinger into sword form only for another Grimm to rush at his side. He brings his sword up in time to block it, its teeth curling around the blade as it forces him down on one knee. Panic races through his thoughts, his heart hammering in his chest like a startled bird in a cage. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clover’s been bitten, the Were will kill him. Clover’s been bitten. Clover will bleed out. If he doesn’t bleed out, he’ll change. He’ll change and he’ll attack me and I’ll have to kill him. Clover’s been bitten and he’s either a dead man or a dead wolf, Clover’s been bitten and I’ve lost him— </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Qrow!” Clover screams. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>help me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>just </span>
  <em>
    <span>Qrow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>just his name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Qrow!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Were is dragging him off. Blood smears on the cobblestones and gets carried away by rain. Lightning cracks high in the sky, lighting the Were’s thin, hulking form and Clover’s terrified face. Qrow braces his arm under his sword, inches from bone white teeth, and flips the Grimm over his shoulder, rolls Harbinger over his wrist and sinks the blade into its ribs. He takes off and is cornered again, the final two Grimm leaping into his path, tar black and snarling and hungry for his grief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Qrow!” Clover pleads, voice growing distant, weakened, tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clover! Clover, no—!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he fells the two Grimm, he’s lost sight of them. He can still hear Clover crying out from within the forest, muffled under the noise of rain and Qrow’s own thudding footsteps. The mud swallows up the trails of blood and only leaves the drag marks for him to follow, and the rain is starting to blur it all together. Qrow can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and he’s soaked to the bone and Clover is slipping right through his fingers. Clover is bitten. Clover is bitten, Clover is bitten, Clover is bitten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His boots slide in the mud as he skids to a stop. Abandoned on the ground is Clover’s knife, covered in blood that’s starting to bubble against the silver. A few feet ahead is soaked fabric; Qrow snatches it up and discovers it’s Clover’s armband, dripping blood that turns translucent in the rain. Qrow’s eyes flit wildly about the foliage, but the rain falls in such thick sheets that he can barely see a few feet in front of his face. Lighting shines through the treetops in quick flashes and even that yields nothing. There is no sign of the Were, and no sign of his partner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clover!” he screams, so loud that his throat hurts. “Clover, where are you?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks he hears his name once more and whirls around to look for it. It’s so faint that the direction is lost to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clover!” he yells again, and his voice wavers. “Clover! Answer me! Please, please answer me…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sinks Harbinger’s blade into the ground as his knees give out, gripping the hilt in both hands to hold himself up. He feels like a cavern has opened up in his chest. Hot tears mix with frigid rain, salty against his lips as he sobs. Every muscle in his body aches and the strings of his heart pull so tight it hurts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” he rasps, and he doesn’t know who he’s asking, and no one answers him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow makes it back to Higanbana around two in the morning. The storm is still raging, and he’s shaking with hypothermia. Clover’s belongings are strapped to his back and falling haphazardly off his shoulders, his own left behind in their tent. He’s only alive because every Grimm in the area had been killed in Oniyuri’s ruined town square.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After three days, when he’s recovered and returns to Vale, he calls the Atlas Guild to ask someone to come for Clover’s car, only to be told that Clover had designated him as his only family and left him all of his worldly possessions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow keeps Clover’s bandana tied around his neck and files paperwork with runny ink and tear stains. He hates it.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, for god’s sake…Qrow, get up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow stirs and feels a sharp ache in his spine. His shoulder hurts too, and his throat burns. A headache pounds at his temples, only made worse when he pries his eyes open and has to crane his neck to look at Taiyang from his slumped position against his apartment door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the middle of the fucking day,” Taiyang scolds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow groans as Taiyang hauls him up and hooks Qrow’s arm over his shoulder. A bottle slips from his fingers and rolls down the hall, mostly hollow but dripping vodka. “Give me your keys,” Taiyang says, scowling as Qrow fumbles to get them out of his pockets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After manhandling Qrow to the couch, Taiyang combs a hand through his hair and looks around Qrow’s apartment, placing his hands on his hips. Qrow avoids his eyes. He knows it’s a fucking mess, garbage spilling out of the trashcan and dishes piled in the sink, bed unmade and clothes strewn over the floor, and various types of bottles left all over the place, mostly empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What would you have done,” Taiyang asks, pinching his brow and clearly losing his patience, “If the girls had gotten here before me and found you like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow frowns and rubs his temples. The light coming in from the window stings his eyes. “The girls are coming?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where the hell is your Scroll? Ruby texted you last night.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow grunts and feels around his shirt, fingers brushing at the red bandana tied around his neck until he eventually finds his scroll tucked against his chest. Sure enough, there’s a message from Ruby, already opened and forgotten. “Oh,” he says, dropping his gaze and tucking it back in his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t just say ‘oh’,” Tai snaps. “You were passed out drunk on the floor at one in the afternoon, Qrow. This place is a mess. You need help.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need help,” Qrow grumbles. Before Tai can object, he reaches out and takes a mostly empty bottle of whiskey from the coffee table, puts the nozzle up to his lips and tilts his head back. The little gulp that’s left burns down his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you stop?” Tai demands, yanking the bottle from Qrow’s hand. “By the Brothers, I can’t believe your liver is still functioning. It’s been a year, Qrow, and you haven’t gotten any better since the day you came home. You need professional help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>need help,” Qrow says again. He doesn’t. He needs a full night’s sleep. He needs a drink. He needs that Were in the fucking ground. He needs Clover back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ruby and Yang are worried about you,” Taiyang insists. “I’m worried about you. You didn’t drink like this when Summer died, and it’s only gotten worse as time goes on. That’s not healing. Do you seriously think you don’t need help, or do you just not want to get it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow goes quiet, brows knitting as he avoids Tai’s gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tai exhales. “Brothers, Qrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t sleep,” Qrow rasps, putting his face in his hands. “It’s been a year and I still can’t sleep. I see him every time I shut my eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, silence. Then, Taiyang sighs and takes a seat next to Qrow on the couch. “It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow lifts his head just enough to hide his mouth behind his hands, afraid that Tai will see his bottom lip tremble. “I should’ve told him something didn’t feel right,” he says, staring ahead at nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tai puts a hand on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should’ve—” Qrow stops, blinking back tears, then rakes his hand through his bangs and tightens his fist there. “He must’ve suffered. And I couldn’t get to him—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Qrow,” Tai says sharply, and pulls Qrow into his arms. “Stop, alright? You did what you could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow stiffens, then slumps against Taiyang’s chest and buries his face in his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the hallway comes cheery voices. Qrow glances up as Ruby and Yang come bustling through the door with armloads of takeout bags. “Uncle Qrow!” Ruby says, bubbly as ever. “We brought you some…” she trails off, her smile falling from her face. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Yang asks, kicking off her shoes, then looks up and says, “Oh…shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow thinks about sitting up to save face, but the tears are already coming, so he just hides in Tai’s shoulder again. Tai smooths his hair. “Shut the door, Yang,” he murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang shuts the door. There’s a shuffle of bags and a clink of bottles as she clears space on the coffee table. Another bit of shuffling, the sound of footsteps, and then Ruby settles at Qrow’s back, her tiny arms wrapped around his middle and her cheek squished against his shoulder blade. A moment later and Yang sits down on the floor beside them, laying her head against Qrow’s knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ruby asks gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost inaudibly, Qrow lets out a sob.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Are you certain you want to hunt again?” Ozpin asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow watches as his Scroll lights up on Ozpin’s desk, downloading the details of a job near the border of The Emerald Forest. Packs of Grimm had been getting out of hand there for months, but with the influx of new students into the Guild recently, Vale’s Hunters had been hugely preoccupied with training and overseeing new teams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oz had offered Ruby a spot in the Guild early, despite her being two years younger than the recommended age, after seeing how well she fought when a Grimm had wandered into a small village in Patch. Qrow wishes he was of the state of mind to mentor her team, but…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. It’s been a month since Taiyang found him passed out against his apartment door, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” he answers finally, pulling his flask from his pocket and taking a swallow before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t let my license expire. You know how it goes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Qrow,” Oz says. His tone is no-nonsense, but his brown eyes are kind, albeit disapproving at the sight of Qrow’s drink. “Licenses can be renewed. If you need more time to grieve, no one will fault you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow exhales and combs a hand through his hair. “Can’t exactly sit around forever,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forcing yourself back into a role you aren’t ready to play is hardly a good way to get back into the swing of things,” Oz tells him. He sips from his mug, then sets it down with a sigh and steeples his fingers. “Taiyang tells me you’ve been drinking more than usual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow scowls and looks away, folding his arms. “Of course he did,” he mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oz sighs, then rises from his chair and moves around his desk to put a hand on Qrow’s shoulder. “Qrow, I…” he starts, then softens and tries again. “I haven’t been there for you as much as I wished I could be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need coddling, Oz.” It’s not true, anyways; Oz had texted him almost every day, called many evenings, stopped by Qrow’s apartment with cooked meals that Qrow had barely been able to swallow early on, what with the lump always caught in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not, but…” Oz trails off, then says gently, “You look tired, my friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows he does. There’s been bags under his eyes for over a year now. He’s lost weight and a bit of muscle definition, the gray in his hair more noticeable now. “I’m alright,” he lies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oz frowns. “Qrow,” he warns. “If this is about that Were…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to do?” Qrow snaps, shrugging off Oz’s hand. His fingers go up to his red bandana, a stress habit he’s picked up. “Just sit here while that…</span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> walks around free? After all it’s done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Qrow,” Oz says again, more sharply this time, “Revenge makes a man lose his wit, and yields little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words sting. Qrow glares at the floor. “You don’t have to tell me that,” he says through his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to hunt this Were,” Oz says, “then let me put a Platinum team together for you.” His voice softens again, and he puts a hand on Qrow’s arm this time. “Your nieces only just started here, Qrow. I don’t wish to have to tell them their favorite uncle was killed before they even reach their six month anniversary as Guild members.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow looks at him then, brows knitting as the anger falls from his face. After a moment, he sighs, his shoulders sinking. “Sorry,” he murmurs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be,” Oz says. “Just promise me you won’t go after it until you have backup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Oz says, then wraps his arms around Qrow’s shoulders. “And promise me you’ll be careful,” he says, losing any air of </span>
  <em>
    <span>headmaster </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d been maintaining.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still unused to being touched after so much self-imposed solitude, Qrow stiffens up at first, then relaxes and wraps his arms around Oz’s waist. He can’t help remembering that embraces used to be casual for him, that Clover used to throw an arm around him just because he could, that they used to sit shoulder to shoulder on Qrow’s couch after a hunt, drinking sodas and eating Qrow’s favorite chocolate and Clover’s favorite chips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise,” he rasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the desk, Qrow’s Scroll beeps, the job blinking across the screen.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The town at the edge of The Emerald Forest has been evacuated recently. Job details had stated that the Grimm sightings in the area had steadily grown worse over the past two years, and recent attacks had led to residents leaving town to stay with family members in the city, or moving there altogether. The town’s only been empty a month, which gives it a very specific sort of eerie air, a sense that people </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>be here and </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Grimm in the area have been moving in factions during the night and, reports said, retreating to a series of nearby dens in the mornings. This meant the pack was composed of older beasts, who had survived Hunters long enough to know that there was safety in numbers. Qrow had already carved through a faction on his way here, but he hadn’t found any corpses or even any signs of recent human activity, so he couldn’t say what had caused the group to rouse when the sun was still up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow rolls his shoulder and takes a swig from his flask as he walks down the empty street, keeping an ear out for low growls or heavy breathing. Harbinger feels heavy in his hand after not using it for so long, but Qrow’s always thought wielding it was much like riding a bike, and he had to admit that the exercise had felt good. It’s the town that sets him on edge; the emptiness reminds him too much of Oniyuri, and he has to work hard to tamp down the anxiety that settles in the pit of his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finds no Grimm in the town, though there’s a plethora of coyotes and raccoons having a field day in most people’s abandoned trashcans. As the sun creeps towards the horizon, Qrow decides it’s not worth it to set off into the forest again. Instead, he picks a small house at the edge of town and kicks the door in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels a little bad about breaking and entering, but it isn’t like people had left much of value behind. Besides, once word got out that a Hunter had cleared the Grimm in the forest enough for residents to return, bandits would show up and strip the place clean within days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house is devoid of tv’s and dishes, but the furniture remains, a couch that features an old, faded wine stain and beds that have been stripped of sheets. Qrow glances around the kitchen and tests the water—still running, thankfully, as is the gas stove, though the electricity has been shut off—then digs through a linen closet and finds a threadbare set of stale smelling sheets and an old duvet. Eager for any small semblance of comfort, he sets Harbinger against the nightstand and makes the bed, then his sleeping back into a makeshift pillow. He unties the red bandana from his neck and folds it tenderly, leaving it on the nightstand before he changes into sweatpants and a loose-fitting green shirt and crawls under the itchy covers just as the last of the evening light fades from the sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wakes abruptly some time in the middle of the night, convinced he heard growling nearby. He listens for ten minutes, keeps his breathing even and slow and tucks the emotions left from his dreams away, but when the only sound he catches is more rustling in nearby trash and the chitter of raccoons, he settles back into bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he sleeps, he remains entirely unaware of a pair of bright green eyes watching the house from within the woods.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Music for this chapter: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyx0W5UhJGM">Casual Affair</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSWIfX_MNCY">The End Of All Things</a> by Panic! At the Disco.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow wakes at dawn and rinses Harbinger clean in the sink, then lays it over the stovetop and uses the blade to toast one of his premade sandwiches a little. The rest of his breakfast consists of a protein bar and water, coupled with a swig of whiskey that helps him steel his nerves against the effects of a restless night.</p><p>He had dreamed of Clover’s bulk beside him, of his hands, as he often does. He thinks with some frequency and intense regret that he should’ve kissed Clover in that shitty hotel room in Higanbana; he thinks that maybe, if they had lingered with each other just a little bit that morning, they might’ve missed that Were entirely.</p><p>Qrow takes another swig and changes into his hunting gear, ties Clover’s bandana around his neck, then heads out into the forest.</p><p>Since he’ll be here a few days, he leaves most of his belongings in the house except for his flask and a bit of beef jerky to tide him over until he can wander back for lunch. There’s still no sign of Grimm in the town at least, just more raccoons and a couple of brave foxes, which means the remaining factions of this pack didn’t get a whiff of the emotions rolling off of him in the night. Qrow isn’t sure if he considers that a good thing. On one hand, he hadn’t had to roll out of bed to fight, but on the other, it could mean that the pack had begun to move inwards towards Vale, and that would mean having to pick their brand new trail out from all their fairly recent ones.</p><p>In the end, he doesn’t have to look very far. Qrow’s hardly been walking into the woods for five minutes before he finds obvious signs of Grimm activity. Messy, skidding paw prints of various sizes scatter across the ground, claw marks scraped into the soil and cutting deep rivets into nearby trees. Qrow frowns as he bends to study the tracks; some were headed towards town, but there’s one stray set, a little smaller than the rest, that met the group at the edge of the woods.</p><p>Something doesn’t add up here. Grimm packs have never been known to fight each other, even for territory. They simply didn’t display aggression towards non-humans. But there are obvious signs of a scuffle here. Had a lone wolf crossed their path and attacked out of panic or starving desperation? There’s trace amounts of blood here and there speckling the grass, but no body in sight, and the prints seem a little large for an animal.</p><p>Qrow’s throat tightens. A Were, maybe? There’d been no reports of one in the area, and although there had been two bites before the evacuation, both had died of their wounds. And Grimm don’t attack Weres, either. None of this makes sense.</p><p>The fact that it had happened so close to the house he’d slept in is…unsettling. Qrow doesn’t know what to make of it. What’s more, if there had been Grimm this close, why hadn’t any wandered further into town?</p><p>Qrow scowls and heads deeper into the woods. Older signs of Grimm activity are everywhere; scuffed trees, foliage pressed down in the shape of too-large bodies, shallow paw prints under the shade where the ground was softest. Backtracking with the prints he saw at the edge of the forest, Qrow eventually comes to a temporary den dug hastily into a tight grove of trees, the dirt still loose and shifting and the plants crushed but still a healthy green.</p><p>The den is incredibly recent, but despite it being early morning, there’s no Grimm sleeping in it.</p><p>“What the hell is going on?” Qrow mutters out loud, flabbergasted.</p><p>Frustrated, he returns to the house as the afternoon sun makes the heat start to be unbearable. There’s still no sign of Grimm in the town, though Qrow can’t manage to shake the feeling that he’s being watched. Maybe the emptiness of the village is still getting to him. Maybe his dreams are.</p><p>He’s not drunk enough for this.</p><p>Qrow makes another sandwich on his sword and paces around the kitchen restlessly as he eats. This job was supposed to be straightforward. How much more obvious could you get than ‘overrun forest’? Even split into factions, a pack this size should be easy to find. Despite a multitude of signs of activity, he hadn’t found a single damn beast since that first group he’d slain coming in. Something is off here and he can’t place it, and it’s starting to fry his nerves.</p><p>He heads back out into the forest after he eats, following along the same tracks he’d spotted earlier. In the few hours of daylight he has left, he manages to parse out a new set of prints that briefly mingle with the old ones and head out south. It’s on this trail that he finds another den, this time dug out beneath a craggy rock formation, and this time occupied.</p><p>Qrow gets as close as he dares. The sun hasn’t touched the horizon yet, and the Grimm—seven of them here—are still unconscious and not set to rise for a while longer. He clicks Harbinger into sword mode and slips out of his shoes and socks, bare feet silent in the soft dirt as he slips into the den and sinks Harbinger into each Grimm’s necks without waking any of them, bodies falling to dust around his blade. </p><p>After the last has crumbled away into nothing, Qrow steps out and swings Harbinger up onto his shoulder. The woods are strangely quiet, like the birds have been startled silent, like the entire forest is holding its breath. Qrow keeps still and scans the area, searching for movement or the sound of heavy breathing, for a growl or the approach of paws. </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>Qrow’s hair is still standing on end. Something about this still isn’t right, but Grimm aren’t exactly known for stealth, what with their size and general thirst for blood. Cautiously, he pulls his shoes back on and makes his way back to the village, keeping his thoughts carefully neutral and his gaze on any movement. All he ever sees are birds tucking themselves away into their nests for the night and squirrels retreating into the trees.</p><p>Just as the nearly full moon climbs into the night sky, Qrow makes himself dinner and takes a shower that runs ice cold halfway through. Still uneasy and now grouchy, he takes a swig of whiskey, pulls an Atlas Guild jersey over his head, and crawls under the covers.</p><p>It’s barely 10:00PM when he startles awake, shaken from dreams of low laughter and sweet smiles by furious growls close by. Qrow leaps out of bed and yanks his boots on almost on reflex, snatches Harbinger up from its spot against the nightstand and flicks it into scythe mode the moment he’s out the door. The moon lights the woods in a pale, translucent white that makes everything look halfway like a dream, and if not for the damp chill that needles at his skin under his nightclothes, he’d almost think he was still asleep.</p><p>He hasn’t even made it to the treeline when the growling suddenly goes silent. Qrow skids to a stop and listens, knowing he’s exposed out in the open like this but preferring that to venturing into the trees where whatever just won that battle could be hiding. He can just barely hear the sound of labored breathing, then heavy footsteps and snapping twigs as the victor, a broad shape at least his height, stumbles past the treeline, its gait uneven and dragging and its shoulders heaving as it struggles for breath.</p><p>Qrow settles into a stance, ready to either counter or swing up into an attack. The shape steps out into the moonlight, and Qrow lowers his weapon in shock as he realizes that it’s a man. It’s a man, and bright, fresh blood drips down his body from jagged cuts and pooling bite marks.</p><p>Qrow feels like all the air has been punched out of his lungs as his gaze lands on the man’s face. Clover—<em> his </em> Clover, solid and alive and <em> there— </em>stops and blinks at him dazedly.</p><p>And then his eyes roll back, and he collapses on the ground.</p><p>For a moment, Qrow just stands there, not breathing. Goosebumps race across his skin, his hands shaking, his mouth working in disbelief. It’s not real. It can’t be real. That Were had dragged him off and killed him. He was dead. He’s been dead over a year.</p><p>And yet, here he is, wounded and unconscious, but <em> here. </em> </p><p>Qrow is afraid to move. He wants to pinch himself. He’s afraid that if he so much as blinks wrong, the image in front of him will shatter into pieces, and he’ll be left to grieve all over again.</p><p>After what seems like half an eternity, he forces his legs to move. A step, and a pause as he feels like his knees might give out, and then a second and a third until he’s at the man’s side. Harbinger rattles quietly in his hands. Qrow pries his fingers loose and reaches out, hesitates, then reaches again and touches the man’s back before lurching back as if burned.</p><p>Warm skin. Damp with dew and slick with blood, but warm and alive all the same.</p><p>“It can’t be,” Qrow whispers, so quiet he may as well have not spoken. <em> It can’t be. I’m seeing things. I’m tired and it’s dark out and I’m seeing things. It’s just a man. It’s just a Were, now. I have to kill it. </em></p><p>He swallows. It <em> can’t </em>be. Clover was bitten and dragged off. The Were must have killed him. It must have. Qrow had searched for him all day and most of that night. There was no way—</p><p><em> The Were was a serial biter, </em> he thinks absently, logic poking through his shock. <em> It killed so much because it was trying to turn others and kept going overboard. It dragged Clover off so I couldn’t give him a mercy killing. Clover was stronger than an average civilian and he could’ve survived. </em></p><p>“It can’t be,” he whispers again, trembling, and sets Harbinger down to roll the body over.</p><p>The moonlight illuminates the planes of Clover’s face gently, the cut of his jawline and the height of his cheekbones, the arch of his brows and the length of his nose. His hair is mussed, bangs a little overgrown, red smeared at his mouth from a gash across his cheek and his long lashes unbloodied. He looks absolutely terrible, and somehow he’s just as beautiful as that first time Qrow ever laid eyes on him.</p><p>Qrow lets out a shaking breath and gets to his feet, then hauls Clover up and over his shoulder and half-drags, half-carries him into the house.</p><p>He lays Clover on the couch, where blood quickly seeps into the material to join the old wine stain. His brain is going a hundred miles a minute; he blinks and he’s filled the sink with warm water and a found ratty, left behind washcloth, he blinks and his tiny first aid kit is in his hands. Clover breathes steadily on the couch, face pinched in unconscious pain, and Qrow just stands there staring at him for what feels like a long time.</p><p><em> He’s bleeding, </em>he reminds himself, and drops to his knees beside the couch on autopilot.</p><p>Qrow cuts off Clover’s shirt with his knife and returns to the kitchen, wetting the washcloth and dripping water as he crosses the living room to carefully wipe the blood away from a bite mark in Clover’s side. It looks more shallow than he’d first thought, which is good. That’s good. Qrow smears antibiotic cream along the edge of the wound with his thumb and folds up gauze to tape over the ruined flesh, watching in morbid fascination as the muscle under his touch flexes and shudders slightly at the sting. </p><p><em> He’s alive, </em> comes the thought, awed and unbidden. <em> He’s alive. He’s alive. </em></p><p>There’s another bite in Clover’s arm that Qrow cleans and dresses in the same manner, though he can’t help but notice that this bite seems much smaller than the first. He cleans the blood from the cut on Clover’s cheek and thinks absently that it too is smaller than he’d first thought; by the time he returns to the kitchen to wet the wash cloth, cleans it, and folds up a small piece of gauze to tape over it, he realizes the cut is half closed.</p><p>“Brothers,” Qrow whispers out loud, and tapes the gauze down over it anyway. </p><p>The smaller scratches and cuts don’t need much more than water, his skin a pale pink where it’d been angry red and split open minutes ago. Qrow finds another old sheet in the closet and wipes away any remaining blood, marvelling at how much there is compared to how many wounds are left.</p><p><em> He really is a Were, </em> Qrow thinks numbly. Then, <em> he really is alive. </em></p><p>Qrow swallows around a thick lump in his throat and reaches out, pressing two fingers underneath Clover’s jaw to check for a pulse. He’s shaking still, hasn’t stopped shaking since he brought him in, but he can feel it against his fingertips, a steady jump along the vein. He’s alive. Qrow holds his knuckles against Clover’s lips and feels his breath there. He’s alive. Qrow lets out a choked noise, rising on his knees to lean over Clover’s form and press an ear to his heart, to marvel at the insistent rise and fall of his chest.</p><p>
  <em> Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. </em>
</p><p>Qrow’s fingers curl against Clover’s skin. His vision blurs. His breath hitches once, twice, in his throat, and he lets out a wordless, overwhelmed sob that wracks his shoulders.</p>
<hr/><p>Qrow blinks awake as light shines into his eyes. His back hurts, and there’s a crick in his neck. He’d fallen asleep against the side of the couch, unable to bear the thought of leaving Clover’s side even for a moment in the night.</p><p>Qrow glances back at him slowly, almost afraid that the whole thing was a dream, or that he’d only imagined Clover’s face on someone else. The man on the couch sleeps soundly, breathing slow and measured, a soft snore escaping parted lips.</p><p>“Gods,” Qrow murmurs, feeling tears well up again as he cards fingers through Clover’s hair, “it’s really you.” </p><p>Because there are a thousand emotions running through him all at once, not the least of which being relief, joy, regret, shock, and some terribly fierce tremor of love, Qrow spends the next two hours crying his eyes out. And then, because he’d cried all night too, and his body feels a little bit like a dried husk, he gets up and chugs a bottle of water. And, belatedly realizing that there’s blood all over his shirt, he changes clothes (into his own shirt, this time, because the idea of being caught wearing Clover’s brings a flush of embarrassed heat to his face).</p><p>He’s too stricken to eat, at least until well past lunch time. Despite Qrow’s constant pacing and the way he checks Clover’s pulse hourly, Clover never stirs or even moves from the position Qrow left him in. Qrow goes to change his bandages some time in the afternoon and discovers that all of Clover’s injuries from the night before are gone, even the worst of gashes turned a healthy pink and unlikely to scar. </p><p>Speaking of scars, there’s a faint impression of teeth on Clover’s right shoulder, the skin there pale and smooth, as if that Were’s giant fangs had been a mere inconvenience instead of a death sentence. </p><p>Qrow runs his fingers over the marks and bites his lip hard so he won’t start crying again. He desperately wants to pull Clover into his arms and hold him tight enough to hurt; for now, he just takes Clover’s hand in his and presses his mouth to Clover’s knuckles.</p><p>To pass the time in between sporadic bursts of tears, Qrow sends an update to the Guild on his Scroll—the hunt is fine, the town is empty, the woods full of Grimm but nothing he can’t handle—and forces himself to eat and drink. When he starts feeling as if he might go insane from the waiting, he takes his flask and swallows down whiskey…just one swallow, mind you, because after that, the flask is empty.</p><p>Qrow swears in frustration and chucks the flask against the living room wall. It thuds loudly and leaves a crack in the drywall, and shame washes over him immediately after. Someone might return to this house once the Grimm are cleared out, he reminds himself.</p><p>He exhales and glances over at Clover’s sleeping face, half-hoping the sound will wake him. Still, nothing.</p><p>He gets up to pace again, Harbinger in hand as he moves from window to window. It’s only a matter of time before Grimm decide to come chasing his mixed emotions, and the busted front door won’t offer much protection. He just hopes Clover’s awake by the time that happens.</p><p>He doesn’t know what he’ll say when Clover finally opens his eyes. <em> Clover, I can’t believe you’re really alive. Clover, I missed you so bad I thought I would die, sometimes. Clover, when I lost you it felt like my entire world was ending, it felt like someone had flayed me open, it felt like getting shot. </em></p><p>
  <em> Clover, I don’t know how I’m going to hide you from the world. </em>
</p><p>He has a million questions. He has a million things to tell this man and he knows none of it is going to come out right. All Qrow knows is that Clover is alive, and that he is hopelessly in love with him, and that anyone or anything that tries to take him away again is going to meet the business end of a shotgun.</p><p>After a long day of waiting and rehearsing reunion speeches he knows he’ll fuck up, of emotional turmoil and more crying fits, Qrow lays down to get some sleep. In the bed, this time, because his back keeps twinging and won’t accept anything less.</p><p>He dozes off and dreams of Clover stumbling bloody out of the woods, and running to catch him before he falls.</p>
<hr/><p>Qrow startles awake—again—around two in the morning. The moonlight shines through the bedroom window and casts long shadows across the floor, and his dreams blend halfway into memory, and from the kitchen he can hear low grunts and soft snarls.</p><p>This time Qrow climbs out of bed quietly and leaves his muddy boots by the foot of the bed. He closes his fingers around Harbinger, breath caught in his throat, and creeps down the hall, footsteps muffled by the carpet. He presses his back against the wall and peeks into the living room; sure enough, the couch, wine-ruined and bloodstained, is empty.</p><p>In the kitchen, hunched over the counters and silhouetted by the pale light pouring in from the windows, Clover presses a hand to his forehead and growls through gritted teeth.</p><p>Qrow’s body reacts like it always does: his heartrate kicks up even as his breathing slows, his fingers tight on the hilt of his sword and his muscles coiling in anticipation. He swallows, licking his lips and forcing himself to relax, at least a little bit; this is a Were but this is <em> Clover </em> too—</p><p>He must let out his breath too loudly. Either that, or Clover’s hearing is phenomenal. Both are equally likely. Qrow exhales and Clover looks up sharply, and even in the terrible light, Qrow can see the fur sprouting over his too-big shoulders, the way his cheeks are lined with hair that hadn’t been there when Qrow went to bed, the way his nails sharpen into long, curved points.</p><p>The next second that passes feels like ten. They stare at each other, and they don’t move, and they don’t make a sound, and then Clover’s glowing green eyes fall to Harbinger.</p><p>“Clover—!” Qrow starts, but Clover’s already bolting, flinging open the broken front door and tearing out of the house.</p><p>He’s <em> unbelievably </em>fast.</p><p>Qrow takes off after him, heart leaping into his throat. Chasing Clover down the last village street with the forest looming ahead feels too much like Oniyuri, and Qrow can feel his breath growing shorter from panic more than the running. Clover is gaining distance and any moment now he’s going to disappear all over again, and Qrow doesn’t know if he’ll come back or vanish forever, if he’ll slip through Qrow’s fingers just like before—</p><p>As he runs, Clover’s form just seems to swell larger. Qrow watches in horror as he sprouts fur, as his limbs elongate into paws and his shoulders nearly double in size, as pointed ears spring from the top of his head and a tail from beneath his waistline, as he drops onto all fours and sprints into the woods. </p><p>“Wait!” Qrow cries, but Clover’s already slipping away into the brush. Qrow starts to follow before instinct reels him back; he’s been crying for an entire day and it’s the middle of the night, and there’s still factions of the Grimm pack roaming the forest. Even with the full moon as bright as it is, it’d be suicide to venture in now. Beyond that, he wouldn’t even be able to see Clover’s tracks, and he isn’t even wearing shoes. </p><p>For now, Qrow braces a hand on his knees while he gets his breath back, trying not to dissolve into anything even slightly resembling hysterics. Clover’s gone again, just like <em> that. </em></p><p>He realizes then that Harbinger is still in his hand. “Fuck,” Qrow swears, standing up straight to comb his fingers through his bangs. He must’ve scared him. That’s why Clover had looked so startled…he’d thought Qrow was coming to slay him.</p><p>“Fuck,” Qrow says again, softer, then cups his free hand around his mouth and shouts, “Clover! Clover, come back here! I’m not gonna hurt you, damn it!”</p><p>Nothing answers him except crickets and the distant scuffle of trash cans. Qrow paces back and forth in the cold grass for a while, squinting into the trees to try to make out any movement, and after catching a thorough chill and seeing absolutely nothing for a half hour, he heads back into the house.</p><p>He can’t sleep.</p>
<hr/><p>Qrow crashes around 6:00AM, which is about the time he’d planned to get up. </p><p>He jolts awake sometime before noon and scrambles into his hunting gear, a half-eaten cold sandwich in his mouth as he hops into his second boot and ties Clover’s bandana around his neck while he runs out the door, Harbinger clipped to his belt. He finds Clover’s tracks a little ways into the forest, where thicker foliage chokes out the grass, and takes a second to marvel at the size before eagerly following after them.</p><p>He follows the trail for a little over an hour before it abruptly disappears. Clover, it seemed, had realized that he’d be followed, and likely started scraping a loose tree branch over his tracks.</p><p>“Damn,” Qrow murmurs, crouched over the last of the prints and running a hand over his jaw. “Damn.” </p><p>He stands and scans the woods for any signs of activity; finding none, he picks a direction and starts walking.</p><p>After three hours of searching, Qrow comes across tracks again, but they’re bigger and numerous…another faction. Qrow follows paw prints and the drag of claws along tree bark and comes to another den, past a thick brush of sharp thorns. This time, it’s full.  </p><p>Qrow sighs. It’s a find…not exactly the one he wants, but one he needs to deal with, still. He steps high to press the thorns down with his boots as quietly as he can, trying not to swear when a few stray thorns catch his calves. </p><p>A small branch cracks loudly under his heel. Qrow freezes, glancing up and watching one of the Grimm’s ears flick towards him. Five wouldn’t be a problem for him, but if he can take out this faction without waking them—without making enough noise to potentially startle Clover away again—he’d much rather avoid a waking confrontation.</p><p>The Grimm’s ear swivels back to a lax position. Qrow lets out his breath and creeps closer.</p><p>Much to both his disappointment and relief, none of the wolves in this den are smaller or brown, all of them tar black and covered in bone. No Weres to be seen, and no sign of any having been here in the past. There’s not enough space for another body here, even if Clover is smaller than a Grimmwolf. </p><p>Qrow sighs and kills these Grimm the same way he had the last pack. Only the last of them stirs just before he takes its head from its shoulders.</p><p>In the end, he finds nothing of substance. In the end, he only realizes he’s been searching for hours more when evening crickets start singing.</p><p>Qrow glances up at the sky. Stars are just turning visible, glittering against dark-blue-fading-black. This time, he lets himself curse. </p><p>The moon is still bright, illuminating the woods enough that Qrow can see peeks of the village through the trees. Qrow draws his Scroll from his pocket and realizes it’s almost nine. This, of course, explains why his hair is standing on end, and why he can hear multiple sets of paws trailing him.</p><p>“Damn,” Qrow sighs softly, then clicks Harbinger into scythe mode and breaks into a run.</p><p>Snarls shatter the relative silence behind him; Qrow breaks the treeline just in time to whirl and slice through a Grimm’s chest as it leaps for him. He dances back as more come pouring from the trees, quickly counts four and more approaching from the shadows. This, he thinks as he flattens Harbinger’s blade and stabs it into one of their bellies, is likely the biggest faction, and perhaps even the last.</p><p>Now, if only he could survive long enough to report it.</p><p>Qrow hears skidding paws at his rear and fires Harbinger’s shotgun into the ground as he jumps, the momentum carrying him up just high enough to stomp on its shoulders and drop its throat to the curve of his blade. Qrow kicks off its crumpling body and narrowly avoids a swipe of claws, fells a fourth and a fifth and a sixth Grimm. Two circle him as he takes a moment to catch his breath, eyes fixed on the one that keeps inching closer while its partner waits. It lunges; Qrow ducks and swings Harbinger in a wide arc, cutting clean through its body. He rises, letting the snath turn across the line of his shoulders as he does, and the waiting Grimm that leaps at his side gets its jaw cleaved from its head.</p><p>Qrow extends his arm and catches Harbinger’s grip as it completes its rotation, bringing it to a hard stop. He takes a few lungfuls of air, sweat beading at his brow, and then realizes with dawning horror that he can hear galloping paws and he’s left his back to the forest. He whirls and sees the last Grimm leap into the air above him, its too-long arms stretched out, its too-human hands reaching for him with arching claws— </p><p>And a dark shape slams into its side, two huge bodies careening off course and crashing into the grass.</p><p>“Clover!” Qrow shouts.</p><p>The two wolves are a snarling flurry of teeth and claws, little more than blurs of pitch black and chestnut brown. They tumble over each other, maws scrabbling for purchase on thick fur and finding none. Qrow can only watch, open-mouthed, unable to get between them with his blade without risking sharp silver sliding into Clover’s body, and he anxiously paces at the fringes of their space, heart stuttering with each loud snap of jaws.</p><p>The Grimm slips out from underneath Clover’s grasp and bolts, trying to gain enough distance to reorient itself, but Clover lunges after it and lands true. The two go tumbling again, this time into the shadows of the treeline, their snarls and growls ringing out in the night.</p><p>There’s a sharp yelp, and then all sounds of struggle stop. Qrow can hear his own heart pounding in his ears, and he rushes towards the woods, only to stop just short of the shadows when he sees a hulking shape waiting, half-hidden behind a tree. </p><p>Green eyes blink back at him, bright and curious and wondering.</p><p>For a moment, Qrow feels like all the air in the world could never fill his lungs. “Clover?”</p><p>A soft chuff; the shape tucks itself a little further behind the tree until only one glowing green eye is visible. Qrow opens his mouth to object to the retreat and realizes again that he’s still holding Harbinger.</p><p>“Wait,” he pleads. “Please, wait.” He raises one hand slowly, carefully lowering Harbinger to the ground. “I won’t hurt you. Please stay.”</p><p>Silence, stillness.</p><p>Qrow feels a lump swelling in his throat. “Please,” he rasps, turning his hand palm up and holding it out in offering.</p><p>Clover’s ears flatten against his head in hesitation for a moment before they flick forward again, attentive. Then, slowly, he takes a single step into the moonlight. </p><p>Qrow watches in morbid fascination as a paw shifts easily back into a human foot, the high arch of his heel disappearing, the fur vanishing as if by magic. Human hands—Clover’s hands—press against the tree bark for balance, the huge bulk of his bare shoulders shrinking back down to the size Qrow knows, and the way the moonlight illuminates a now smooth jawline is nothing short of divine.</p><p>Neither of them say anything for a moment. Then, from Qrow: “You saved me.”</p><p>Clover hesitates again, body still a bit hunched as if he’s briefly forgotten how to stand like a man. “...Yes,” he says, raspy, his voice still near a growl.</p><p>It sends a delighted shiver down Qrow’s spine. It’s the first time he’s heard Clover’s voice in over a year, outside of old videos and the cheerful message left on his voicemail. He nearly has to shake himself into focusing. “You ran from me earlier,” he says, dismayed at how his voice wavers. “So why did you save me?”</p><p>Another pause. Clover’s jaw works subtly. He says, a little more clearly, “You saved <em> me.” </em></p><p>Qrow’s lips part. He has a million things to say and he’s certain they’ll all come out wrong.</p><p>“And…” Clover murmurs, voice smooth now, “You’re my partner.”</p><p>“I’m a Hunter,” Qrow reminds him softly, because he has to. Guild law demands he cut this man down and Clover knows that, but here he stands, still. Here he is, having just ripped a Grimm to pieces with his teeth to keep Qrow alive, vulnerable and open in every sense.</p><p>“But you didn’t kill me,” Clover points out. He leans forward, takes a step closer. His hands leave the tree, hanging out in the open air like he wants to reach out and isn’t sure.</p><p>Qrow lets out a shaking breath. His vision is blurring again, but part of him is afraid that if he blinks the tears away, Clover will vanish all over again. “…I couldn’t,” he whispers, and Clover moves. “I could never—”</p><p>Strong arms envelop his body and Clover squeezes him tight, face buried in Qrow’s shoulder. Qrow stiffens on reflex, trained to be conscious of a Were’s mouth, and but relaxes when Clover just inhales deeply and lets out a shuddering breath against his pulsepoint.</p><p>Qrow wraps his arms around Clover’s waist and squeezes, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. For a moment, all he can do is crush Clover to his chest, and then he lifts Clover off his feet and spins him, pure euphoria washing over him as Clover lets out a surprised laugh.</p><p>“You’re alive!” Qrow gasps when he sets him back down, tears falling even as he grins so wide, his cheeks hurt. “Gods, you’re alive.”</p><p>Clover laughs again, short and watery. He reaches up to brush at Qrow’s cheeks with his thumbs, his own eyes glistening. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I’m so sorry, Qrow. I wanted to come back to you sooner.”</p><p>“Where have you been?” Qrow asks, prying one of his hands away from Clover’s back to cup his face. </p><p>Clover leans into the touch, brows knitting in plain adoration as tears spill over. “I couldn’t risk turning you,” he murmurs, laying his hand over Qrow’s and closing his eyes, nose turned towards Qrow’s wrist. “I had to make sure I could control myself. I couldn’t hurt you…I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Qrow asks, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize to me for that. My gods, you’re alive.” </p><p>Clover smiles and Qrow can’t get enough of it, can’t stop staring at those pretty green eyes. Even as dirty and as wild as he looks, he’s still utterly gorgeous. Those eyes fall to Qrow’s neck, somehow growing even fonder as Clover brushes his fingers over the bandana. “You kept this?” he murmurs.</p><p>Qrow is so surprised by the question that he laughs, sharp and startled. “I kept all of your things,” he says, and delights in the flush that blooms over Clover’s cheeks. He lays his hand over Clover’s, still pressed to his collar, then laces their fingers together and tugs him towards the house. “Come on,” he says, stooping to pick up Harbinger. “Lets get you inside. You’re getting goosebumps.”</p><p>“Don’t suppose you have any spare shirts?” Clover asks, following him without argument.</p><p>Now it’s Qrow’s turn to flush, and he’s grateful that Clover’s just far enough behind him to miss it. “Yeah,” he says, sheepish, and only glances back enough to see Clover tilt his head curiously.</p><p>Inside, Qrow turns on his Scroll’s flashlight as he leads the way to the bedroom, where he digs in his bag and hands Clover a t-shirt. Although the moonlight through the window keeps the room from being as pitch black as the hall, Clover’s eyes still glow that brilliant sea-green. </p><p>Clover takes the shirt silently and stares at it for a moment. Then, “Is this mine?”</p><p>“Yes,” Qrow answers, embarrassed but honest. </p><p>Clover looks up at him, apparently speechless. After a too-long moment that leaves Qrow feeling mortifyingly seen, he unfolds the shirt and pulls it over his head.</p><p>Green still suits him.</p><p>“Tell me what happened,” Qrow says then, because the question has been burning on his tongue.</p><p>Clover’s brows knit, and he sits down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t remember much,” he admits. “I remember the Were dragging me off and a lot of burning pain. The first few transformations hurt.” He frowns. “I thought he was going to kill me, but he just…stood there and grinned at me while I changed. I don’t know if he just got a thrill out of turning a Hunter, but…” he trails off, chewing his lip. “I blacked out after that. I woke up nauseous later, but I don’t know where I was. The Were was gone and…I’d killed something.”</p><p>Qrow inhales quietly. “A person?”</p><p>“No, a…deer, I think,” Clover says. He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I’ve killed a human. No one’s been tracking me, so I assume not, but…like I said, the first few changes are rough. I don’t remember anything about being a wolf for at least the first two months, except being hungry.”</p><p>Qrow’s brows knit. He takes a seat beside Clover on the bed and takes his hand again, desperate to feel that he’s warm and solid and <em> real. </em> “I looked for you,” he murmurs. “That night.”</p><p>“I know,” Clover says, squeezing his hand. “I know you did. I heard you call for me.” He exhales. “I was too far gone to answer.”</p><p>“I—” Qrow starts, then swallows and tries again. “I don’t know if I could’ve done it.”</p><p>“Killed me?”</p><p>“Don’t say it so casually.”</p><p>“I would’ve asked you to,” Clover says.</p><p>They both go quiet. After a moment, Qrow leans closer and presses his forehead to Clover’s temple. Clover shuts his eyes and turns into it, their noses brushing.</p><p>“I missed you,” Clover says softly.</p><p>“Cloves,” Qrow whispers, “Shut up. I’ve already been crying for two days straight.”</p><p>Clover laughs, a low rumble in his throat that sends flutters to Qrow’s belly. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I lost my Scroll in the change. I thought about trying to contact you all the time.”</p><p>Qrow swallows. It has occurred to him in all this mess that Clover can’t be the only Were who kept his sense of self after being given enough time to get used to his new form. The idea that he might’ve been killed, and for nothing, makes Qrow’s stomach turn. “You couldn’t have known you wouldn’t be hunted,” he says. “It wouldn’t have been safe to assume.”</p><p>Clover doesn’t reply to that. Instead, after he goes still for a moment like he’s holding his breath, he wraps his arms around Qrow’s middle again, turning his nose into Qrow’s hair.</p><p>How strange, to think his closest friend likes the way he smells.</p><p>“You look tired,” Clover says, his frame nearly melting against Qrow’s as Qrow returns his embrace. “Did you sleep after you found me?”</p><p>“Not very much,” Qrow admits. He glances at the bed, then says, “You’ve been sleeping outside, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Uh,” Clover says, suddenly sounding careful. “While I was looking for you, yeah.”</p><p>Qrow leans back and looks at him. “What does that mean?”</p><p>Clover lets out a huff of breath. “It’s…a long story. One I’d rather tell in the morning.”</p><p>“Alright, fair,” Qrow agrees. He suddenly feels like his entire body is aching, like he’s tired down to his bones. “You take the bed then. I’ll sleep on the couch.”</p><p>Clover’s mouth falls open. “But—”</p><p>“Clover,” Qrow says, cupping the man’s face in his hands. He’s real, gods, he’s real, he’s here and he’s real and he’s <em> alive. </em>“Take the damn bed.”</p><p>Clover starts to say something, then flushes and drops his gaze. “Alright,” he says. </p><p>Qrow tries hard not to think about that. He digs in his bag for more nightclothes and gathers them in his arms, thinking that he’s only just gotten Clover back, and it’s too soon to do anything other than be grateful for it. “Talk to you in the morning?” he asks.</p><p>“Talk to you in the morning,” Clover agrees, although there’s still a faint hesitance in his voice, in his expression. Qrow loves his features, loves seeing them move with subtle tells even in the dark, loves seeing them without the overlay of a screen. “Goodnight, Qrow.”</p><p>“Goodnight,” Qrow says, and then retreats to the living room.</p><p>He dresses in silence. He lays his hands against the couch cushions and checks for any lingering dampness of blood. He lays down and stares at the ceiling and tries to let all of this sink in. Clover is alive. Clover is a Werewolf, and he changes under the full moon, and he is fur and claws and sharp teeth and still undeniably<em> him, </em> still the same dedicated partner, still the same sweet-faced man as before.</p><p>Qrow lies there for all of ten minutes and thinks about Oniyuri. He thinks about Higanbana, and shitty hotel rooms, and the fact that this broken-into house with its threadbare sheets is probably the least romantic he could possibly get.</p><p>“What am I doing?” he mutters, and gets up off the couch.</p><p>The bedroom door opens with a creak. Clover sits up, wolf ears swiveling towards the sound before vanishing entirely. Green eyes blink bright in the dark. </p><p>Qrow crosses the room in two long strides and climbs onto the bed.</p><p>“Qrow?” Clover says, sounding strangled as Qrow crawls over him, his knee in between Clover’s legs and pinning him under the sheets. Qrow sets his hands on either side of Clover’s hips and leans in, hesitating only a second before he presses a kiss to Clover’s mouth, too soft to be called anything but tender and too firm to be a question.</p><p>There’s a soft intake of breath against his mouth, and Clover melts into his for just a moment before he ducks his chin and breaks it. </p><p>Qrow stops and waits, nervous that he’s gone too far.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Clover rasps. “I promise.”</p><p><em> Oh, </em> Qrow thinks, flooded with relief and a deep-seated affection all at once. “I know,” he answers softly, and presses another kiss down.</p><p>This time, Clover lets him, his arms going around Qrow’s shoulders to draw him close. Qrow revels in the shape of his mouth, in the heat of it, in the feeling of Clover’s fingers against his shoulder blades and the thud of Clover’s heart beneath his hands.</p><p>They’re supposed to sleep. Instead, they kiss well into the night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Music for this chapter:<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPAc10dfU5o"> Dreamland </a>by Glass Animals and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CLOrPSLRdlA"> Only Love </a>by Wafia.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Qrow blinks awake well past dawn with a sturdy weight pressed against his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes him a second to remember what’s happened. Memories of the night before come rushing back so fast that they get caught in his throat, all tangled up in his vocal cords till the strain nearly hurts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is so unbelievably </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances down at the man laying against him and nearly bursts with fondness; Clover is snoring softly as he always does, his nose turned against Qrow’s collarbones and his arm thrown over Qrow’s belly. Under the worn sheets and threadbare duvet, his leg is thrown over Qrow’s, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow’s arm is falling asleep underneath Clover’s head. Still, without complaint and with his fingers tingling, he reaches up to comb through Clover’s hair and nudge a kiss against his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover sleeps on, unbothered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t believe it’s really you,” Qrow murmurs softly, possibly for the hundredth time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s another few minutes before Clover stirs; Qrow stills suddenly as wolf ears spring up from beneath Clover’s hair, fuzzy brown and soft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” Qrow says affectionately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep doing that,” Clover mumbles, nuzzling into Qrow’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow snorts and rakes his hand through Clover’s hair again, then, after some hesitation, scratches at the edge of his ear. Clover hums softly, eyes still shut. After a moment, a series of soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>thumps </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound from the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow lifts his head and spots a tail, then lays back down and doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thumping stops. Clover says, embarrassed, “This is weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine,” Qrow says quickly. “It’s just…going to take some getting used to.” He pauses, then adds, “It’s cute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover groans and rolls onto his back, pressing his hands to his eyes as the ears and tail slip away. “It’s not cute. It’s embarrassing. I can’t control it yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow laughs and sits up. “So, what? You’re like a giant puppy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover lowers his hands a little, just enough to throw a glare his way. “I’m only a year into this,” he says defensively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s cute,” Qrow tells him again, then chews his lip and climbs over Clover’s hips. Clover blinks up at him, wide-eyed, and barely has time to blush before Qrow nudges his hands away, tips his chin up, and presses a kiss to his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He likes the way Clover melts into it. He likes the way Clover smooths his hands lightly over his bare arms until his fingers catch in the sleeves of Qrow’s t-shirt briefly, just before he loosely wraps his arms around Qrow’s shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow nips gently at Clover’s bottom lip before kissing at the corner of his mouth, trailing along his jawline until he reaches Clover’s pulse. He kisses there, then laves his tongue over the spot, experimenting. Clover makes a soft noise of interest, arching slightly to give Qrow more space; Qrow lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and Clover leans into the touch while Qrow noses along his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the marks along his shoulder, Qrow pauses. Underneath him, Clover strains, arches again until Qrow’s mouth brushes his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow sighs, kisses the scar, scrapes his teeth over it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover whimpers softly. Qrow lurches back, startled, blinking down at him with wide eyes. Mortified, Clover covers his mouth again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Qrow says, trying not to crack a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please never look at me again,” Clover pleads, covering his face and rolling onto his side while Qrow bursts into laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s cute,” Qrow tells him when he gets ahold of himself, dropping his weight down against Clover’s side, hands folded across his shoulder and his chin resting there. “Hey, look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover mutters something under his breath and peeks, cheeks visibly red under his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow’s sure his affection is plain on his face. He wonders absently if Clover knows how much Qrow loves him. He’ll tell him later, he thinks, when things have settled some and the high of Clover’s return has faded back into normalcy. “I’m glad to see you,” he murmurs, then flashes him a crooked grin. “Puppy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover groans again. “That’s the worst nickname you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>given me,” he complains, but he’s grinning too, eyes bright and amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You love my nicknames,” Qrow returns, leaning forward to kiss him again before he sits up, delighted by the way Clover chases after his mouth a bit. “C’mon, lets get some food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover rakes a hand through his hair. Qrow climbs out of bed and stretches his arms to the ceiling, hiking his shirt up maybe sort of on purpose, and glances back to see if Clover’s looking. He is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The shower works,” Qrow says after a moment, jerking his head towards the hall. “Water runs cold fast, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover grunts softly in acknowledgement, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. He pauses a moment, eyes downcast and the edges of his mouth curving into something somber, then reaches out and takes Qrow’s wrist, tugging him close again. Qrow moves to stand in between his knees, strokes his cheek and his shoulder while Clover slides hands under his t-shirt and thumbs down the bumps of his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to come back sooner,” Clover murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you did,” Qrow says, and smooths Clover’s hair when Clover presses his forehead against Qrow’s belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been…” Clover says, then swallows. “I’ve been thinking since Oniyuri. I should’ve waited for you. I should’ve—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop that,” Qrow says firmly, throat tight. He leans back just enough to tug on Clover’s arms, to pull him up and into an embrace. Clover presses his mouth to Qrow’s shoulder, and it feels like his lip is trembling. Qrow closes his eyes, hoping tears won’t well up so fast that way and knowing it’ll sting when he opens them again. “I thought all the time that I should’ve been faster, that I…that I failed to protect you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That wasn’t your fault,” Clover rasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then it wasn’t yours, either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both go quiet for a moment, just standing there holding each other. Then, from Qrow: “We’ll figure it out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover sighs quietly, and Qrow nudges a kiss against his temple. “Go shower,” he says softly, and Clover noses at his jaw before pulling away to head for the bathroom, his hand lingering on Qrow’s hip until he’s too far away to reach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow watches him go, feeling one part like a lit hearth and one part like a cracking dam. And because he knows he’ll break if he thinks on it too long, he goes to toast sandwiches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Clover walks into the kitchen pulling a shirt over his head—another one of his own. Qrow glances back at the sound of his footsteps and quickly looks away, flushed for two reasons, the red of his cheeks only going darker when he feels warmth at his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got tomato on these?” Clover asks, reaching around him to pinch the edge of a sandwich and check for how toasted it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Qrow says, biting the inside of his lip. “Would’ve gotten soggy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn,” Clover sighs, pulling the sandwich from Harbinger’s blade and taking a bite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow huffs and elbows him in the ribs gently, appreciating the surprised grunt he gets for his efforts. Every word out of Clover’s mouth, every little noise he makes, is just another reminder that he’s alive, that Qrow will get to hear his voice whenever he wants again. “That one was for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover takes another bite pointedly, raising his brows like a dare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoo,” Qrow scolds, and Clover laughs, pressing a kiss to Qrow’s jaw before he retreats to the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow feels himself go pink again, butterflies swarming in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, hell,” Clover says from the living room. “Is this mine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The blood?” Qrow calls over his shoulder. He turns off the stove and leaves his sword there to cool, shaking his fingers out after he moves his hot sandwich back to its crinkled sheet of aluminum foil. “Yeah. That pack of Grimm from the other night got you pretty bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There were a lot of those fuckers,” Clover mutters, sighing and taking a seat at the far left of the couch, where the bloodstains aren’t so bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would’ve been easier if you had a weapon,” Qrow points out, taking a seat beside him. Their thighs press together, which Qrow would say, if asked, was a result of trying to avoid the bloodstains. Nevermind the fact that he’d already attempted to sleep here the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover pauses. “Do you have Kingfisher?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not on me.” Qrow takes a bite of his sandwich, feeling an old ache surface in his chest. “It’s at my place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Clover doesn’t say anything, sandwich forgotten in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow nudges him. “Eat,” he says gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They finish their breakfast in silence. When they’re done, Qrow asks, “Did you ever kill that Were?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover exhales, raking a hand through his hair. It’s longer than he used to keep it, though he still wears it combed back. “No,” he answers. “I spent a lot of time…drifting, I guess. I changed sort of wildly for the first two months. I couldn’t tell you what triggered it. Full moon, sure, but everything else…” he stops, thinking, then says, “It was like my body couldn’t decide what shape it wanted to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow hesitates, then puts his hand over Clover’s. Clover turns his hand palm up and laces their fingers together, squeezing, then goes on, “I tried to stay away from villages. I found a river and managed to keep close to it even…even when I’d lose myself. And I guess I hunted for food. I don’t remember that. Just…woke up covered in a lot of blood pretty often.” He pauses, then asks a little fearfully, “Do you know if there were any reports from Mistral about a Were out near Higanbana after that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow inhales a little sharply, then frowns and looks away. “I…I don’t know,” he admits. “This is my first time hunting since, uh…” he takes a deep breath, shakey, “since Oniyuri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover’s mouth falls open, horror plain in his eyes. “Qrow—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were dead,” Qrow interrupts. Tears spring up fast, sharp and unbidden, and he swallows thickly around a lump in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Clover rasps, reaching out with his free hand to cup Qrow’s cheek. “Gods, I’m so sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop saying that,” Qrow says, leaning into the touch. A tear slips and pools against Clover’s fingers, and Qrow brings his hand up to his mouth to kiss. “God, Cloves. I don’t blame you for this, you know I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Clover murmurs. “I know, I just…I thought about you every day. I knew you must’ve been hurting.” His frown deepens, voice strained like his throat has gone tight. “I just couldn’t think about how much or I would’ve run back to you too soon and…” he trails off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow wants to say a lot of things. He wants to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you for thinking to protect me from your teeth, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>did you think I would hunt without you so soon? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wants to ask,</span>
  <em>
    <span> did you not realize what you meant to me? Did I not express it enough? Wasn’t it clear when I asked you to stay with me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> None of that sounds right. None of that sounds like he wants it to, so all he says is “Clover,” helplessly, and turns to kiss against his palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover thumbs against his cheek ones before wrapping his arms around Qrow’s shoulders. Qrow rests one hand against Clover’s hip and the other against his heart, just to feel it beat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment, Qrow asks, “You didn’t seriously run around the woods eating raw deer for an entire year, did you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover lets out a watery laugh and sits back, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “No, I didn’t. Gods, would you believe me if I said this is the part where the story gets wild?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As opposed to literally everything you’ve told me so far?” Qrow asks, and then leans forward to steal a kiss because he can’t help it. Clover makes a little pleased noise against his mouth, and if Qrow’s utterly smitten by the rosiness of his cheeks and the almost dreamy expression Clover gives him when they part, then he thinks even the gods would find it cruel to judge him for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What I’ve told you so far barely covers two months,” Clover chuckles. “Maybe three. It’s kind of a blur, but…lets say three. Three months in, I was starting to remember what happened during my changes a little more. And I was staying somewhat conscious while I shifted. I woke up halfway after turning human and realized someone was hauling me across the woods.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow opens his mouth, then shuts it, then says, “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Naturally,” Clover says, motioning at Qrow’s expression, “I freaked out. But the changes were still taking a lot out of me at that point, so I probably struggled about as much as a kitten before I passed out. When I woke up, I was actually in a bed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bed,” Qrow repeats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bed,” Clover affirms. “You’ll recall I’d been doing my damnedest not to be near people. So I got up and tried to sneak out, no idea where the hell I was, but the homeowner caught me while I was looking for the door. Get this.” He leans forward, like telling a secret, then says, “Turns out, the woman who brought me there was another Were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another Were. For a moment, Qrow’s speechless. A Were. In a house. And aware enough to rescue someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, this is the crazy part,” Clover grins, though his expression turns serious a moment later. “I don’t know how to say this without it being shocking. Qrow, there’s…entire towns full of nothing but Weres.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lot of things go through Qrow’s head at once: 1) that he was right to assume Clover wasn’t the only Were to retain his sanity, 2) that Guilds have been killing people worth saving this entire time, and 3) that Clover must trust him more than anyone, to tell him such a dangerous thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ve been hiding for generations,” Clover goes on. “Grimm don’t attack us, like…I don’t know, like they can’t sense how we’re different from them, even in our human forms. So Weres have been settling deep in Grimm territory where even Hunters don’t go. There’s entire towns and villages full of families and children…kids who’re born with the ability to change.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kids. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Children. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Qrow thinks about Ruby and Yang training right now to be killers and feels sick to his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t even hurt them the way it hurts bitten Weres,” Clover says, rambling now, hands moving aimlessly to accentuate his points. “They don’t have any violent tendencies when they change, they still recognize their parents even in their earliest shifts as toddlers…it’s incredible, Qrow. I met a pup named Marrow in that town and he just…walks around half shifted all the time because he can. They have a whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>culture.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Their own music, their own books, plays, songs—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What have we been doing?” Qrow asks, looking down at his own hands. How many times has he killed Weres before their first changes were even complete? How many times has he taken bounties for them?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Clover says sharply, taking his hands again. “Qrow, don’t…just don’t, okay? We did what we thought we had to.” He exhales, then goes on a little shakily. “Look, being bitten is…it’s terrifying. Your body feels like it’s being pulled apart from the inside out. Even when I started remembering who I was as a wolf, I still panicked. All the colors look wrong, everything looks the wrong size…I don’t remember anything about my first change except pain and fear. I would’ve attacked anything that moved. And we didn’t have a way to contain Weres safely before now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Desperate to think of anything except Clover being shot down by Hunters, by his own hand, Qrow looks up and asks carefully, “Before now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover nods. “The Were villages have squadrons…basically like Guild teams. They don’t have to worry about being bitten like Hunters do. We’re already stable, and we heal fast. You saw.” He points at his own shoulder. “This is the only scar I’ve gotten since I changed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what,” Qrow manages, “They just…fight newly-turned Weres?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ve been rescuing them for years. They send out teams to bring them down before Hunters can, then take them back to their towns and let them heal under custody. They’ve got jail cells lined with silver wire and wolfsbane to keep them contained until they can control themselves. There’s teams dedicated to taking care of them through that, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow swallows. “Were you…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover shakes his head. “By then I wasn’t so aggressive as a wolf, so I was deemed far enough along to not need it. But they didn’t let me leave the village for a while after that. Too much risk that a Hunter would follow me, or that I’d bite when threatened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Qrow only looks a little miserable, Clover adds, “They treated me well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did they know you were a Hunter?” Qrow asks hesitantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Uh…I mostly left that part out, mostly. The Were that rescued me—Robyn—she and her team knew. My clothes were pretty ruined when she found me, but she still saw the Atlas insignia sewn into the hem of my shirt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow’s eyes flit to Clover’s pants. He’s still not sure how they haven’t been stretched out beyond fitting a human man, but that’s Were magic, he supposes. “Do they get a lot of Hunters?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover frowns. “I never saw any. Robyn says they’ve gotten some before, but…most bitten Hunters are killed pretty quick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods, you could’ve died,” Qrow whispers, gripping Clover’s hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I could’ve killed you. Someone still might. You’ll have to stay in the village and I can’t go there. I can’t go there and you can’t come home with me— </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I didn’t,” Clover points out, pointedly cheery about it. He squeezes back, a little more gently. “And I found you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you even know I was here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover flushes. “There were a lot of Grimm in the area, and I’d planned to spy on any big hunt I could find,” he admits. “I knew someone of your skill would be assigned the bad cases…even without a partner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if someone had seen you?” Qrow demands. “You’d have been put on a bounty!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, give me some credit,” Clover objects, then flashes Qrow a smile that shows off the point of his canine. Qrow is dismayed at how attractive it looks in his mouth. “I’m good at sneaking around. My partner was the quietest Hunter in the Guilds, remember?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t flatter me,” Qrow pouts, flattered. “I’m mad at you for being reckless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover laughs. “Alright, well, I couldn’t exactly risk being seen going to your apartment while you weren’t home. And I got lucky.” He winks. “This was the first hunt I spied on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re the reason I was wandering around this place paranoid as all hell,” Qrow says, then sighs in defeat and draws Clover into his arms again. “Goddammit, I missed you so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” Clover murmurs, nuzzling at Qrow’s jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a long moment, they’re quiet. Qrow whispers, “What are we going to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover exhales. “We have to find a way to stop the Guilds.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow sits back, brows knitted. “How are we supposed to do that?” he asks. “If we tell them these towns even exist, they’ll start putting together teams to sweep through the forests.” He looks away, eyes flitting over nothing as he thinks about it. “Hell, even if they don’t find the towns, how many Hunters will be killed by Grimm on the way?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Clover says slowly, and Qrow’s gut immediately fills with dread.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you up to?” he asks, exasperated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a plan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Gods.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have good plans,” Clover objects. “And it’s more Robyn’s than mine. She’s…a little bit of a radical. She wants to expose the existence of Weres to the Guilds and demand human rights.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no way she’s got enough fighters for that,” Qrow points out. “Generations of Weres or not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Clover agrees. “Which is why this is a multi-step plan. Robyn’s already had Weres infiltrating Guilds for a while now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Qrow demands, jumping to his feet. “What do you mean, infiltrating—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down,” Clover says, holding his hands up placatingly. “It’s not what you’re thinking. Weres have been learning to become Hunters undercover, not committing sabotage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Qrow stops, a little bit of tension slipping from his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come sit,” Clover says gently, holding a hand out. Qrow frowns, looks away, trying to absorb all of this, then takes his hand and sits again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Robyn’s idea,” Clover says, “is that Weres make better Hunters than…well, Hunters. Like I said, Grimm don’t pay us any mind unless we attack them first. Between accelerated healing and the fact that we don’t have to worry about bites, killing Grimm is easy for us. Robyn thinks that if we can convince the Guilds that we’re all on the same side, we can get them to stop killing Weres.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll never go for it,” Qrow rasps. “The councils will never agree to having Weres among their students.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is why there already are,” Clover points out. “If some of the students the council wants so desperately to protect are already Weres, that proves our point all on our own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll see it as espionage and betrayal, not a point towards peace.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clover pauses, then meets Qrow’s eyes. “That’s where my part of the plan comes in,” he says after a moment. “The Atlas and Vale Guilds already know me. I have a reputation with them. If I expose myself as a Were, and I’m still obviously myself—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you insane?” Qrow gasps, jumping to his feet again. “I just got you back and now you want to go stand in front of a crowd of Hunters to be shot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Qrow,” Clover tries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Everyone knows you got dragged off by a Were! I had to report you dead, Clover! I had to call your Guild and tell them I lost you!” He’s worked himself up to tears again, and they spill over when he blinks. This is too much. This is way too fucking much. “You want to tell everyone you’re a Were? What happens when a Hunter recognizes you even before that and shoots you on sight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What else can I do?” Clover demands, standing. He reaches out, and Qrow steps back, bottom lip trembling. If Clover touches him, he’ll break down, he just knows it. “Qrow, I can’t just let Guilds keep killing innocent people. This plan is happening with or without me, but I can be the bridge between worlds here. Don’t I owe it to them to try make this easier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Qrow snaps. “No, you don’t owe them shit!” His voice starts climbing. He feels hysterical. “Why should you have to get up on a stage and die in front of a crowd like some kind of sacrificial lamb?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you think I’m telling you all this?” Clover asks. “I need you to help me. You know Vale’s Headmaster well. He would trust your word. The Guild would trust his.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll tell me to kill you,” Qrow rambles, shaking his head. “He’ll tell me to kill you or he’ll do it himself, Gods, Clover—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Clover says in a rush. “Shit. Don’t cry, alright?” He pulls Qrow into his arms, cups the back of Qrow’s head as Qrow’s tears fall against his shoulder. “I won’t do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Liar,” Qrow sobs, because Clover has always been </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>and kind and valiant, and he won’t just sit by safely while others are hurting, damn him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels Clover’s body go tense in his arms, feels the way his spine stiffens under Qrow’s hands, tight in his shirt. He doesn’t deny it. After a moment, his shoulders slump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn you,” Qrow whispers against Clover’s scar. Clover turns his nose against Qrow’s jaw, thumb brushing idly beneath his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the kitchen counter, Qrow’s Scroll beeps, an alert for a missed check-in flashing across the screen.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You didn't think everything was just gonna be <i>fine,</i> did you?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Music for this chapter: <a href="https://youtu.be/skHbZBsS7hM">hostage</a> by Billie Eilish and <a href="https://youtu.be/Hr9TaQw-L-M">Gorgeous: Upstate Sessions</a> by X Ambassadors.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow loses track of how long he sobs in Clover’s arms. It seems as though every time he manages to catch his breath, his chest seizes up and the tears come flowing again. Between the blurs of static panic in his brain, each thought of Clover announcing his <em> wolfishness </em>to the world sends another sharp bolt of grief to the space behind his ribs. He imagines, in flashes, that he can feel the sting of cold rain, that the scent of blood leaves a coppery taste at the back of his tongue.</p><p>Clover moves him back to the couch at some point, saying nothing while Qrow rides out his hysteria. His fingers never leave the short hair at Qrow’s nape, and every so often, he nudges a lopsided kiss at Qrow’s temple.</p><p>After Qrow’s crying simmers down to hitched breaths and hiccups, he pries his fingers from Clover’s t-shirt. He knows in the back of his mind that he’s being selfish, that to prioritize one man’s life against the massacre of a people isn’t exactly morally sound, but goddammit— </p><p>He should have this one thing. He should be allowed to have this one thing.</p><p>“Qrow,” Clover says softly, like a sigh, and Qrow lets out his breath with a slow shudder.</p><p>On the kitchen counter, his Scroll rings; a call, this time.</p><p>Qrow sits up to look at it, then wipes his eyes and quickly rises from the couch. He avoids Clover’s gaze, knows that if he looks at him, the cavern in his chest will fall open all over again. Clover’s hands linger on him until he steps away, and something hot and angry and miserable coils in Qrow’s gut just briefly before the heartache washes it cool.</p><p>Qrow wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand once more before he picks up his Scroll and answers it.</p><p><em> “There you are!” </em> Oz exclaims, his worried features flashing across the screen. <em> “It’s been two hours since you were supposed to check in, Qrow! You had me worried sick. I—” </em> Oz cuts off then, mouth hanging open as he studies Qrow’s face. <em> “…Brothers, are you sick?” </em></p><p>Qrow sniffs and looks away quickly. He’s not a good liar. He’s never been a good liar, and he’s afraid that if he lets Oz look too long, he’ll see right through him. “I’m fine,” he manages, and nearly winces at how rough his voice sounds. He clears his throat, then repeats, clearer, “I’m fine.”</p><p>Oz opens his mouth again, then shuts it, hesitating. <em> “Are you…” </em> he starts, then sighs and asks, <em> “Qrow, have you been drinking?” </em></p><p>The question has Qrow freezing. Behind him, he hears the faint creak of couch springs as Clover stands up. Tension runs through the line of Qrow’s shoulders, threading knots through his stomach. He must take too long to answer, because Oz suddenly declares, <em> “I knew it. I knew it was too soon.” </em> His arms shift at the edge of the camera while he starts pulling up Hunter profiles across his desks holoscreen. <em> “I’m recalling you. Another Hunter should be along within a few hours if you want to relay anything you found to them—”  </em></p><p>“The job’s done,” Qrow snaps, burning with embarrassment. It’s not Oz’s fault—how could he know anyone was listening? Qrow knows he looks terrible, with his face all flushed and his eyes red. Of course Oz would assume—but he still can’t help feeling exposed for the reaction. “The reports said five factions of a pack, right? I killed the last one last night.”</p><p>Oz pauses, staring at him. After a moment, his shoulders slump, and he reaches up to rub at his temple. <em> “Alright,” </em> he sighs. <em> “Alright, I apologize. Just…be careful, please.” </em> When he looks up again, his expression is gentle. <em> “You look exhausted. Are you…how are you doing, Qrow?”  </em></p><p>How is he doing? He doesn’t know how he’s doing. Clover is alive and trying to get himself killed all over again, so Qrow doesn’t know how he’s fucking doing. “I’m fine,” he says again, and then, because that sounds like a copout, “Really, Oz, I’m just tired. I’ll be headed home soon.”</p><p>Oz’s brows knit. From the living room, Qrow hears footsteps. Oz says kindly, <em> “Qrow, if you need to talk about anything, you know I’ll listen.” </em></p><p>Qrow feels his throat tighten. “I know,” he rasps. “Thank you, Oz.”</p><p>
  <em> “…I hate to see you like this, my friend.” </em>
</p><p>“…I know, Oz.”</p><p>
  <em> “Come home safe, Qrow.” </em>
</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>Oz nods, then closes the call. Qrow shuts his Scroll and exhales, shoulders slumping in defeat before he turns around to face the music. Almost immediately, he freezes again; Clover’s standing by the cracked drywall near the window, holding Qrow’s empty flask in his hand and staring at it.</p><p>“…You’ve been drinking?” Clover asks, brows pinched as he meets Qrow’s eyes.</p><p>Qrow’s mouth falls open, jaw working as he struggles to come up with an answer. Finally, he looks away, hands tight at his side. Then, because there’s no sense in trying to lie, he sighs, “Yeah.”</p><p>There’s a long beat of silence where it’s clear that Clover doesn’t know what to say. He looks upset, between the way his mouth moves like he keeps almost saying something and the stress lines in his brow. He asks, nearly whispering, “…How much?”</p><p>Now that he’s asking, Qrow can’t help thinking about all the bottles Ruby, Yang, and Tai had helped him clean out of his apartment, can’t help thinking of the bottles he replaced those with not too long after. He can’t help thinking about how he spent a little over a week trying to wean himself off of the liquor before going to Oz for a mission, about how he’d ended up caving and drinking anyways. How sometimes, it’d been enough to make him sleep hard, to avoid startling awake after nightmares of teeth and blood or crueler dreams of soft smiles and laughter and warmth; how, sometimes, it’d been enough that he’d passed out on his bathroom floor.</p><p>He admits, ashamedly, “A lot.”</p><p>“A lot?” Clover repeats, his shoulders stiffening, his fingers squeezing the flask till his knuckles turn white, his voice climbing an octave in audible distress. “Qrow, how much is a lot?”</p><p>“I was <em> grieving </em>you, Clover,” Qrow says sharply, frustrated. “I was fucked up, alright? I drank till I was numb. I don’t know how much that is. I didn’t keep a tally of every bottle I went through.” None of this is fair. None of it is Clover’s fault, either, but what is he not getting? How could it be that shocking, that Qrow had watched in helplessness as Clover was dragged away and had ended up a wreck for it?</p><p>“Gods, Qrow,” Clover whispers, the flask slipping from his fingers and falling back to the floor with a hollow thud.</p><p>“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Qrow says quickly, throat tightening again as Clover crosses the room and wraps his arms around Qrow’s shoulders. Qrow’s hands dig into the fabric of his shirt at the small of his back, and he drops his head to hide his face in Clover’s neck. “Don’t say you’re fucking sorry.”</p><p>“Alright,” Clover says, voice wavering. “Alright.”</p><p>And somehow, that’s even worse than the apology.</p>
<hr/><p>Qrow drives. It has never felt right, driving Clover’s car without him in it, but now that he’s back, now that he’s alive and breathing and <em> here, </em>Qrow especially can’t help feeling like he ought to hand Clover the keys.</p><p>Instead, Clover lays down in the back seat, a threadbare blanket pulled over him to keep him out of sight.</p><p>“I don’t think this is safe,” Qrow says for the third time.</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” Clover insists, peeking out from beneath the blanket. “Most people are asleep by now. We close the blinds, I lay low, <em> voila! </em>Neighbors are none the wiser.”</p><p>Qrow purses his lips, eyes flicking to meet Clover’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He raises a brow.</p><p>Clover blinks at him. “What?”</p><p>Qrow turns his eyes back to the road. “I think my neighbors are going to become very aware that I have a guest within the week.”</p><p>He only just barely hears Clover’s hitch of breath over the AC. When he glances back in the mirror again, Clover’s cheeks have flushed a brilliant, lovely shade of red, a flattered smile poorly hidden beneath the blanket. After a missed beat, Clover asks, “You really think it’ll take you a whole week to seduce me?”</p><p>“I said ‘within the week’,” Qrow says calmly.</p><p>Clover clears his throat softly. Qrow lets a self-satisfied smile settle on his face.</p><p>After a long moment, Clover offers, “I can be quiet.”</p><p>Qrow snorts. </p><p>“I can!” </p><p>“But you won’t,” Qrow says, matter-of-fact about it.</p><p>Clover makes a flustered little noise and hides his face under the blanket again. There’s a few soft thumps against the seat, and then the car goes quiet.</p><p>They pull up to Qrow’s apartment. Qrow cuts the engine, and they sit in the dark for a moment while Qrow scans the streets for any stray cars or late night runners. It’s cloudy out, the waning moon hidden and the stars only peeking out in patches, leaving the streets dark except for the street lights. When he spots nothing, he takes off his jacket and hands it back. “Put the hood up,” he says.</p><p>Clover takes it and slides his arms through, pulls the hood over his head. They climb out of the car and enter the building quietly, Clover keeping his head down as he walks. The hall is empty and silent, and the two of them quickly slip into Qrow’s apartment unseen. They both let out their breath as Qrow locks the door, then grin at each other.  </p><p>Qrow admires the snug way his jacket fits over Clover’s arms. Clover pushes the hood back and opens his arms just in time for Qrow to leap into them and kiss him hard, makes a soft, pleased sound against Qrow’s mouth as the kiss softens into something sweet and idly indulgent.</p><p>Qrow withdraws just enough to murmur, “I should’ve kissed you in the hotel.”</p><p>“In Higanbana?” Clover asks, and then his cheeks flush dark again. “…Yeah, you should’ve.”</p><p>Qrow stares at him. The idea that Clover had wanted him even back then is…both flattering and rueful. Qrow wishes, and then he sighs, because it doesn’t matter now. Clover’s here in his arms and Higanbana is hours away, and none of his regret or remorse is going to change what happened.</p><p>Still, because the curiosity eats at him, he asks, “Could I have done it before that?” </p><p>Clover pouts. “You don’t have to tease me about it.” </p><p>Qrow snorts a laugh of surprise. “I’m not. I’m asking.”</p><p>“I don’t believe you,” Clover says, taking a step back as Qrow crowds him towards the couch. “You have any of my chips?” </p><p>“Don’t change the subject,” Qrow croons, and shoves him down to the cushions. Clover goes down easy, looks up at Qrow with parted lips and parted thighs. Qrow is struck again by how pretty he is, and warmth swims in his belly as he drops a knee to the cushion between Clover’s legs. “Indulge me.”</p><p>“You’re fishing for compliments,” Clover accuses, but his hands settle on Qrow’s hips anyways.</p><p>Qrow tips his chin up and presses a quick kiss to his mouth, then, against Clover’s jaw, he replies, “What? I just want to know how long you’ve wanted me.”</p><p>“And how long have you wanted <em> me, </em> huh?”</p><p>Qrow looks down at him, brows raised and his mouth set seriously. “Are you asking when I found you attractive, or when I fell for you?”</p><p>“Qrow,” Clover says helplessly, eyes falling shut as Qrow kisses his mouth again. “Damn you. It’s been a long time, alright?”</p><p>The warmth in Qrow’s belly stokes into a fire. Something heavy in his chest swells. He bites back an <em> I love you </em>to give Clover time to breathe and instead murmurs, “It has for me, too.”</p><p>Clover’s hand slides over the small of Qrow’s back, his lips trailing along Qrow’s jaw. He rubs his cheek against Qrow’s stubble lightly, tucks his nose into Qrow’s hair, and then stops.</p><p>Qrow waits, then asks, “What is it?”</p><p>It feels as though Clover isn’t breathing. Qrow straightens to look at him, then turns to follow his gaze and realizes he’s looking at the empty bottles on the coffee table.</p><p>Qrow shuts his eyes and exhales slowly, then rises and offers Clover his hand. “I still have most of your clothes packed up in storage,” he says. “I’ll get them out so you can have something to sleep in.”</p><p>Clover nods, then drops his gaze and takes Qrow’s hand. He glances at the bottles once more as he stands, brows knitting.</p><p>“I’ll get them in the morning,” Qrow says quietly, and pulls Clover towards his room.</p><p>He leaves Clover there to return to the living room closet, where he’s kept most of Clover’s things packed away in boxes. His heart twinges funny as he shifts through them for the one full of ratty t-shirts and bed clothes; all the boxes are dusty and largely undisturbed, evidence of grief he’d tried to hide away and ignore. The entire apartment is a testament to his mourning: the bottles, the still messy bedroom, the wallet still left on Qrow’s nightstand beside his own. It leaves him feeling raw and painfully exposed, and he wishes more than anything that he’d had a chance to clean up before Clover could see.</p><p>He’d stopped buying the chips. He still remembers breaking down in the grocery store after he’d grabbed a bag of them by habit.</p><p>“It all probably smells a little stale,” he says apologetically as he enters his room again, then stops short.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Clover rasps, quickly wiping his eyes. They’re still noticeably red, his cheeks blotchy and faintly damp, and he sniffs hard as he gets up off the bed and reaches for the box.</p><p>Qrow crosses the room and drops the box on the floor, pulling Clover into his arms. “We’re gonna be alright,” he says, and he isn’t sure if it’s to convince Clover or himself, but Clover lets out a quiet sob against his shoulder, so he supposes it doesn’t really matter.</p>
<hr/><p>Qrow bolts upright around three in the morning to the sound of thunder.</p><p>For a moment, panic grips him. In the black space of his room, his dreams dance in front of his eyes, of tar black bodies and bone white teeth, of bloody cobblestones and thick mud and a terrifying sense of urgency.</p><p>The sound of soft snoring brings him down from his rising panic. Qrow reaches out a hand slowly, and eventually his fingers brush against Clover’s back, where his cheek had been resting moments before.</p><p>Qrow exhales shakily and drags his hand down his face, then eases out of bed and heads for the kitchen. He moves nearly on reflex, and before he knows it, he’s sitting on the couch with a bottle and a whiskey glass.</p><p>He brings the glass up to his mouth, and just as he tastes it, his gaze falls to the bottles on the coffee table.</p><p>“Fuck,” Qrow murmurs, and takes one gulp of whiskey to sooth his frazzled nerves before he returns to the kitchen and pours the rest down the sink. He grabs a trash bag and carefully, quietly puts all the empty bottles inside, then pauses and frowns at his whiskey before he grabs that too, and slips outside in the rain to throw the bag in the dumpster.</p><p>He’s shivering when he comes back in, strips off his wet clothes and puts on a fresh pair of sweats before climbing back into bed. He settles against Clover’s back again, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing him. Clover shifts and goes still again, letting out a deep sigh in his sleep.</p><p>Qrow blinks back tears and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. It takes him over an hour to doze back off.</p>
<hr/><p>Sun peeks through the curtains and falls through Qrow’s lashes, and he pries his sleep-heavy eyes open with extreme reluctance. For just a split second, the morning is as awful as always, numb and lonely and aching, and then he remembers that Clover is supposed to be next to him.</p><p>Qrow sits up, some tender curiosity bursting in his chest. Clover is home. Clover is in his apartment somewhere and has left the curtains open to wake him, and the smell of bacon and cheesy eggs is wafting down the hall. </p><p>He stumbles into the kitchen stiff legged, a dull ache gone through him from sleeping too long. He rubs the grit out of his eyes and yawns until his jaw pops, then stops at the edge of the kitchen. </p><p>Clover glances back at him, eyes flitting quickly over Qrow’s half-naked form before he flashes a warm smile. “Morning,” he says, then turns back to the eggs he’s stirring. “You slept late.”</p><p>“Needed it, I guess,” Qrow mumbles. He sighs. “I didn’t set the coffee timer last night.”</p><p>Clover cocks his head towards the coffee maker. “I made some.”</p><p>“You’re a godsend,” Qrow says gratefully, pulling a mug from the cabinet. He pours himself a cup and adds an ungodly amount of creamer and sugar, sips it and tilts his head back to exhale as it goes down a little too hot. </p><p>“Were you up last night?” Clover asks. “The living room’s clean.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Qrow answers, thinking briefly of his dream as he sets his mug down on the counter. He steps closer, sliding a hand across Clover’s back before wrapping his arms around his waist entirely.</p><p>“I’m cooking,” Clover objects, though he closes his eyes briefly and leans into the kiss Qrow presses to his jaw. “You’re going to make me burn our eggs.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Qrow says, though he isn’t really, and demonstrates this by lifting a hand to Clover’s chin to nudge him into a proper kiss.</p><p>“My eggs, Qrow,” Clover reminds him softly, and Qrow steps away with a low laugh that earns him an interested grin.</p><p>“You didn’t have to make breakfast,” Qrow says as he sits down at the table with his coffee.</p><p>“I was going to make you play host,” Clover teases, setting a plate down in front of Qrow and another for himself, “but you were sleeping so hard when I got up that I figured I’d let you rest.” He sits down and takes a bite of his eggs, then winks and adds, “Besides, I like cooking for you.”</p><p>“That’s a cute way of saying I’m a terrible chef,” Qrow says dryly. Clover laughs.</p><p>They talk about nostalgic things in between bites, tell old stories and inside jokes they haven’t made in over a year. Qrow, with a terrible, helpless sureness, knows that he has a tender look on his face and doesn’t know what he ought to do about it, if anything. The idea that Clover might catch on to how deep his feelings run is hardly something he minds, but he can’t help the fear that he isn’t quite so lucky as to have Clover love him so unfathomably. Fate has been kind enough to return Clover to him as it is, and Qrow has never been one to tempt it.</p><p>Still, the fondness in Clover’s eyes when he looks Qrow’s way is mostly enough to sate his confidence. </p><p>Qrow insists on cleaning since Clover cooked, and since he still has dirty dishes in his sink left over from before his hunt. As if hard-pressed to leave his side, Clover leans against the counter, one leg crossed over the other and arms folded. He doesn’t say anything, but the solemn way his mouth is set speaks volumes.</p><p>Qrow scrubs hard at the last frying pan, then stops when the scratch pad scuffs his knuckles too hard. He exhales, trying not to let his frustration show, but he’s never been good at that. Hiding his expressions, that is. And Clover knows him too well, anyway. “If you’re trying to think of a way to bring it up gently,” he says, then goes back to scrubbing in rhythmic strokes, “you might as well give up.”</p><p>Clover sighs, dragging his hand down his jaw. “I have to, Qrow,” he murmurs.</p><p>The scratch pad scuffs his knuckles again. “I know.”</p><p>“I know it’s not ideal,” Clover starts, and Qrow squeezes the soapy water out of the scratch pad, then tosses it into the sink with a little more force than necessary. It lands with a wet splat, and Clover goes quiet as Qrow wipes his hands dry on a dish towel.</p><p>“Not ideal,” Qrow repeats, then huffs humorlessly and turns away towards the living room. He rakes his hand through his bangs, says, “Fuck’s sake, Clover,” and all but falls down to the couch.</p><p>Clover follows him and sits down at his side, leaning forward and propping his arms on his knees. His fingers drum rapidly at his elbow, a replacement tick for his missing bandana, which is currently folded up on Qrow’s nightstand. He should give that back, he realizes, only now he’s grown attached to it.</p><p>“You’re asking me,” Qrow says, dragging both hands down his face before pressing them together at his mouth like a prayer, “to be okay with losing you again.”</p><p>“I’m asking you to <em> help </em>me,” Clover pleads, reaching out to take his hand. “We can do this, Qrow. You and me as a team, just like always.”</p><p>“And what if we can’t?”</p><p>“We can.”</p><p>“You don’t <em> know </em>that,” Qrow argues.</p><p>“But I know that if you’re there with me, we can handle whatever comes our way.” Clover’s brows knit, and he sighs, then squeezes Qrow’s fingers. “I made a mistake in Oniyuri. If I’d stayed by your side, we could’ve taken him together. And we can take this on too. I know I’m asking you to risk a lot with your family and the guild—”</p><p>“Fuck the Guild!” Qrow interrupts, voice tight, and he drags Clover’s hand closer to his heart. “Clover, I’d do anything for you. You know I would. But this…” he trails off as his voice breaks. He takes a moment, gathers himself, then manages, “You’re banking on your reputation to undo over a century of fear and hatred.”</p><p>Clover’s eyes go wide at the admission, a faint flush flitting over his cheeks before he turns somber again. “I’m not counting on it to undo everything,” he says gently, “Just...start a conversation. People are going to keep suffering if I don’t do this. If there’s even a slight chance I can stop this revolution from breaking into a full-on war, I have to take it.”</p><p>“They might kill you,” Qrow whispers.</p><p>“Not if you’re there with me.” Clover tilts Qrow’s chin up, offers him a hopeful smile. “Hey, aren’t we the best pair anyone in these Guilds have ever seen? What’s a few jumpy Hunters against the best team in Remnant?”</p><p>Qrow’s vision blurs, just a little bit. Still, he can’t help the smile that breaks his miserable expression. “You’re still just as cocky as ever,” he rasps fondly.</p><p>“You like me that way,” Clover murmurs. His face softens. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hiding away in the woods, Qrow. I want to be free to live as I am, and…and I want to be with <em> you. </em> I can’t do that if I just sit back and do nothing.”</p><p>Qrow hangs his head, squeezing Clover’s hand in both of his own and pressing it to his heart. </p><p>“Will you help me?” Clover asks softly.</p><p>Qrow lets out a quiet, wet laugh, then meets Clover’s pleading gaze again. <em> Like seaglass, </em>he thinks fondly, as he always has. “Why are you looking at me like that, like I can say no to you?”</p><p>Clover’s smile is bittersweet and grateful; Qrow knows full well he hasn’t asked this frivolously. There is risk here, but for the first time since Oniyuri, Qrow feels a tiny spark of hope. Clover has always had that effect on him ever since that first time they’d set out to track that Were, ever since they’d spent their drive listening to punk rock, ever since they carved through a pack of Grimm side by side in the woods.</p><p>Clover says, “It’s the puppy dog eyes, right?”</p><p>“Brothers help me,” Qrow groans, and Clover laughs until Qrow kisses him, until Qrow puts a hand on his chest and pushes him down to the couch cushions, until Qrow settles between his legs and lays kisses along his throat.</p><p>They have a few minutes before they have to go stop a war, Qrow figures.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>They can be soft and tender for a little bit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Music for this chapter: </p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_legpFZd_80">Shotgun Love</a> by Pia Mia and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlh7kkpRCBE">Howlin'</a> by MOONZz.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow kisses Clover’s jaw, lazy and airy about it. Beneath him, Clover inhales softly and shivers, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out his breath. His hair is mussed and sweat beads at his brow, his cheeks flushed and his lips kiss-swollen, and Qrow thinks he’s never looked more beautiful.</p><p>“Thought you were gonna be quiet,” he teases, nosing at Clover’s pulse.</p><p>“Shut up,” Clover sighs.</p><p>Qrow laughs and cups Clover’s cheek, then presses a kiss to the other. “I did warn you,” he says playfully.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Chuckles.”</p><p>“Compliment my performance, and I won’t laugh,” Qrow says, plainly smug.</p><p>Clover opens his eyes again. “Like your ego needs to get any bigger.”</p><p>Qrow pinches his side, grinning as Clover lets out a half-indignant, half-delighted <em> hey! </em>“If you won’t praise me,” Qrow says, “which, by the way, hurts my feelings, then I want a reward for my efforts.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Clover asks in interest, eyes dancing with amusement. “What kind of reward?” </p><p>Qrow hums and scratches idly at his jaw, pretending to think about it. “I’d like a kiss.”</p><p>Clover snorts. “Pretty sure I gave you plenty of those,” he says, but he turns and kisses him anyway, deep and unhurried. Then, quietly, still against Qrow’s mouth, “That was fun. I liked it.”</p><p>Qrow hums again, softer this time. “Good.”</p><p>“You’re a man of many talents,” Clover goes on, batting his lashes and feigning a swoon. “Truly, a god of—”</p><p>“Alright,” Qrow laughs, pushing his face away. “Jackass. You want the shower first, or what?”</p><p>Clover winks, then stretches himself out with a low groan. Qrow’s eyes flit over his naked body, admiring his arms and the wide expanse of his chest, the cut of his hips and the swell of his thighs. Finally, Clover pushes his bangs out of his face and answers, “Yeah, I’m going.” He steals another kiss, and Qrow can’t help chasing his mouth for a second as he sits up. “You still coming with me today?”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Qrow answers, falling back to bed and pillowing his head under his hands. “Unless you think it’ll cause trouble.”</p><p>“Robyn’s going to have to learn I’ve got an ally in Vale anyways.” Clover shrugs, climbing out of bed to head for the shower. Over his shoulder, he adds, “She can’t exactly negotiate with a Headmaster if she’s unwilling to meet with a Hunter. Also, quit staring at my ass.”</p><p>“It’s a great ass,” Qrow calls after him shamelessly, and he spots a quick swish of a tail as Clover disappears into the bathroom.</p><p>Free to daydream now that Clover’s out of sight, Qrow sighs in contentment and rolls into his side, face half-buried in the pillow as his gaze lingers in Clover’s direction. He swears he can still feel the way Clover’s hands had glided over his shoulders, the way Clover’s fingers had tightened in his hair, the pressure of Clover’s legs against his hips and the scrape of his teeth against Qrow’s skin.</p><p>His canines had gone sharp a few times. Clover had withdrawn in worry, but eventually relaxed in Qrow’s embrace, and now there's a nice hickey at the junction of Qrow’s neck and shoulder that aches pleasantly whenever he moves his arm. Much to Qrow’s chagrin, any mark he’d left on Clover’s skin had healed right before his eyes, which Clover had found extremely funny.</p><p>Still, Qrow can’t help but think that the best of it had been the way Clover had looked up at him through his lashes, affection simmering there in the green of his eyes and his pupils blown wide with pleasure. </p><p>It’d been a satisfying end to the little game of cat-and-mouse they’d been playing with each other the past two days.</p><p>He’s dozing off, sated and comfortable in the twisted-up sheets, when a hand smooths his hair back and lips press to his forehead. “Shower’s yours,” Clover murmurs, then moves to get dressed.</p><p>“Come back to bed,” Qrow mumbles, warmth blooming in his chest at the low rumble of Clover’s laugh.</p><p>They leave after Qrow showers, though not before Clover corners him against the bedroom wall, tugs his bath towel loose, and drops to his knees with a smirk and a glint in his eye. Qrow still feels like his cheeks are flushed and warm by time they get to the car and start the drive.</p><p>“So, this Robyn,” Qrow says as Clover shimmies his way into the passenger seat once they’re out of the city. “You trust her?”</p><p>“She saved me,” Clover says, nodding as he clicks his seatbelt into place. “She’s reasonable and cooperative, and she’s proven to be an extremely capable leader.”</p><p>“Capable leaders are the kind of people who make good liars,” Qrow says flatly, keeping his eyes on the road.</p><p>Clover pauses.</p><p>Qrow sighs. “Look, I’m just saying…just because she says she has good intentions doesn’t mean this isn’t all just a ploy to start a war with the Guilds. If the Guild can’t get to their base, and they’ve already got moles in the schools, that puts them at an advantage, numbers aside. If you’re going to risk your life, then…” he trails off, feeling his throat tighten, finishes, “you should know what you’re getting into.”</p><p>Clover watches him intently, brows knitted and mouth set heavily, then lets his gaze fall to his lap. “…I trust her,” he says after a moment. “Robyn is willing to do a lot for her people, but she isn’t the type to start altercations she might not be able to finish, and she wouldn’t risk bloodshed if she didn’t have to.”</p><p>“You’re sure?”</p><p>“Robyn is strong,” Clover says firmly. “She didn’t need an ex-Hunter in her ranks when she’s already got contacts within the Guilds. It would’ve been safer for her to kill me, but she didn’t.”</p><p>Qrow exhales slowly, drumming his fingers restlessly on the center console, his other hand white-knuckling the wheel. After a long beat of silence, Clover puts a hand over his. Qrow turns his hand palm up and laces their fingers together.</p>
<hr/><p>“Are we supposed to track her?” Qrow asks as they climb out of the car, holding up a hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the sunlight. The forest in front of them is thick with old trees, and the dusty soil implies it hasn’t rained here in a while. Heavy summer heat has him taking off his jacket to tie at his waist already, too. It’d be easy to spot prints in this weather, but the shade wouldn’t offer much solace from the humidity. </p><p>“No, there’s a spot a couple of miles out that we’ve met at before,” Clover answers as he climbs out of the car. “I know the way.”</p><p>Qrow glances back at him. There’s something off in Clover’s voice that Qrow can only place as <em> wrong, </em> and his brows are knitted slightly as he stares into the trees. </p><p>“Clover?” Qrow asks. </p><p>Clover blinks and looks at him. “Yeah?”</p><p>“You alright?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Clover says, which instantly cues Qrow in to the fact that he’s lying.</p><p>Qrow frowns but doesn’t press for now, and moves to open the trunk. He pulls out Harbinger, just in case they run into Grimm (or at least, he hopes that’s all he’d need it for) and clips it at his waist, then pauses and beckons Clover over.</p><p>Clover raises a brow and steps to his side, then looks into the trunk and draws in his breath quietly. Beside Harbinger’s case is Kingfisher’s.</p><p>“I tried to keep it clean while you were gone,” Qrow admits quietly, reaching up to touch the bandana he’d tied around his neck out of habit. “Don’t know why, I just…yeah. Figured I’d bring it just in case.”</p><p>Clover doesn’t say anything. Qrow watches him worriedly, notes the way his breathing seems off-rhythm. After a moment, Clover reaches out for the case, but his fingers are visibly shaking, and he quickly withdraws. “I—” he starts, then swallows.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” Qrow tells him gently. “I just wanted you to have the option. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Clover opens his mouth, then closes it and looks away. “Don’t be. Thank you, really, I just…” He exhales, folds his arms and taps his finger against his bicep rapidly, then murmurs, “It just feels like—”</p><p>“Last time,” Qrow guesses, a low ache in his chest.</p><p>Clover taps his arm faster. “Yeah.”</p><p>Qrow’s gaze falls to his arm. After a long pause, he reaches up for the bandana. “Here.”</p><p>Clover looks over sharply. “No, you should keep it,” he says. “It looks good on you.”</p><p>Qrow stops, the still-tied knot in his fingers. “You sure?”</p><p>“I like seeing you wear it,” Clover insists.</p><p>Qrow flushes. After some thought, he pushes the bandana a little higher on his neck to get at the chain hidden beneath. He takes off his necklace and moves to stand at Clover’s back, lifting the necklace over his head and letting it come to rest just beneath Clover’s collarbones.</p><p>“You were fidgeting,” he explains, averting his eyes when Clover looks back at him with wide eyes and raised brows. </p><p>Clover puts his hand over the cross. It’s not real silver, just a cheap trinket Qrow’s been wearing for years, but the smile that blooms over his face make it seem like Qrow might as well have proposed. “Thanks,” he says softly, then steps closer and kisses him, fingers sliding lightly along Qrow’s jaw.</p><p>Flustered, Qrow says, “You’ll be late to your rendezvous if you make me toss you into the back seat.”</p><p>Clover laughs and steals another quick peck of a kiss, then laces their fingers together and closes the trunk with his free hand. “Better get a move on, then,” he says, flashing a toothy grin. And Qrow knows Clover’s seen right through him, just like Qrow read him the moment before, so all he gives in response is a crooked but quiet smile.</p><p>They walk for an hour, talking in hushed voices and hopping back and forth between planning and teasing each other. Finally, Clover stops, wolf ears popping up from beneath his hair. They swivel independently while Clover scans the trees, then tilts his head up and sniffs.</p><p>“This is the place,” he says after a moment. “We should’ve met them by now.”</p><p>Qrow frowns, eyes flitting across the forest. “Can you uh…” he starts hesitantly, then realizes there’s no other way to ask and gives up. “Can you smell them?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Clover answers, cheeks flushing in mild embarrassment. “They were here recently.”</p><p>“Bet tracking is easy for you now, huh?” Qrow asks, trying not to smile for the sake of Clover’s pride. </p><p>“It gets overwhelming sometimes, but…it's definitely less work than before.” Clover scratches the back of his neck and grins, prepared to make a joke, when the soft snap of a twig from behind them has his ears flicking towards the sound.</p><p>Qrow closes his hand around Harbinger’s hilt. “Grimm?” he whispers.</p><p>“Can’t tell yet,” Clover whispers back. “We’re upwind.”</p><p>For a moment, there’s silence. Qrow realizes abruptly that he’d been paying so much attention to Clover that he hadn’t noticed how the birds had gone silent. He hasn’t seen any sign of Grimm yet, no marks along the mossy trees or trampled underbrush, but it doesn’t stop his instincts from screaming at him, doesn’t stop his hair from standing on end.</p><p>A low growl sounds from nearby. Out of habit, Qrow draws Harbinger in front of his body defensively, the blade clicking as it slides from combat mode into a sword.</p><p>“Wait—!” Clover exclaims, and a huge blur of pale fur leaps from the brush.</p><p>Qrow brings Harbinger up just as teeth come snapping at him. The force of the Were’s lunge sends him crashing to the ground, and he gets his arm up just in time to brace Harbinger’s blade. The Were snarls and snaps her jaws furiously, the clack of her teeth sending jolts of adrenaline down Qrow’s spine, and he cries out with the effort of holding her back.</p><p>The whole exchange hardly lasts three seconds before Clover, all teeth and claws and fur,  bites into the scruff of her neck and tackles her to the ground. The Were thrashes, yowling as blood speckles Clover’s teeth, and swipes her claws across his side as she struggles to get back to her feet. Clover yelps and jolts back, but not before he shoves her hard; as she falls again, Clover stumbles back and half-shifts back into a man, thick hair still lining his arms and blending into fur along his neck and shoulders, his teeth still sharp and too big for his mouth, claws still curling from his fingers and his tail straight out, ears pressed flat against his head.</p><p>From the bushes, three more Weres step into view, two with dark fur and one even paler than the first. They crowd around the attacker, growling and baring their teeth. Qrow scrambles to his feet, clicking Harbinger into a scythe, but Clover holds his hand out, signaling for him to wait even as he bares his teeth and snarls right back.</p><p>The attacker climbs to her feet, bright purple eyes flitting over Qrow. Clover steps in front of him, a low growl rising from his throat as he holds his arms out defensively, and the sound sends goosebumps racing over Qrow’s skin.</p><p>After a moment, the Were huffs, then shakes out her fur. Blood flicks from the wound on her shoulder. At the cue, the other three wolves stand up straight, their ears flicked forward attentively but their teeth put away. </p><p>“You’re not being held for ransom, are you?” the Were asks, her voice still low and rasping as she shifts, though her words come easy and quick. </p><p>Clover stops growling, then wipes his chin with the back of his hand and spits her blood into the dirt. “No,” he answers, the word thick in his mouth full of teeth.</p><p>The woman rolls her shoulders, rubbing at the bite marks on her shoulder in annoyance. She’s tall, but smaller than Clover still, blond haired and olive skinned, lean but muscular in a way that implies active training. “Care to explain why you’ve brought a Hunter to our meeting place, then?” </p><p>Clover relaxes and finishes his shift, then reaches back and offers his hand to Qrow. Qrow pries his eyes off the woman and takes it, stepping forward when Clover tugs at his hand. “This is…my partner,” he says, then frowns and opens his mouth to pop his jaw. “Qrow Branwen,” he says, clearly now, “This is Robyn Hill.”</p><p>Of <em> course </em>this is Robyn. Qrow can’t help scowling.</p><p>Robyn just raises her brow at him and folds her arms. “So you’re the guy Ebi can’t shut up about,” she muses.</p><p>Clover’s cheeks flush dark.</p><p>Qrow glances at him in amusement. “Yeah, that’s me.”</p><p>“Well,” she says, glancing back at her team, who slowly shift back into humans, a small woman with white hair, a tall one with green, and a third with dark blue. “Sorry for the whole trying to kill you bit. Figured you had Ebi by the throat, so to speak, but I see he’s just compromised.”</p><p>“I’m not compromised,” Clover objects, his blush reaching the tips of his ears as Qrow snorts. “Brothers, Robyn.”</p><p>“Sure,” Robyn replies. She jerks her thumb in the direction of her teammates. “Fiona, Joanna, May.”</p><p>The three of them eye Qrow suspiciously, but nod out of respect. Qrow nods back, then flexes his fingers on Harbinger’s snath and clicks it back into compact mode.</p><p>“Now that we’re all acquainted,” Robyn says dryly, “I assume you filled him in?”</p><p>Clover opens his mouth, but Qrow interrupts, “Yeah, he did. Can’t say I’m very impressed with your master plan, by the way.”</p><p>Robyn lifts her chin. “And why’s that?”</p><p>“You want me to start with the fact that people are gonna get killed, or the fact that you’re turning Clover into target practice for an entire Guild?”</p><p>“Qrow,” Clover tries.</p><p>“Newsflash, loverboy,” Robyn shoots back, “That part is Ebi’s idea, and one I’m welcoming. If he succeeds, there doesn’t need to be bloodshed at all. People are already dying, or did you forget that while you two were off playing house for days?” </p><p>Qrow levels a glare at her, which is promptly ignored. Robyn stabs a finger in Clover’s direction, then snaps, “I gave you time to find him, and you found him. I need to know if we’re doing this or if I need to pull back and train more fighters.”</p><p>Clover and Qrow glance at each other; Qrow presses his lips together and exhales before he looks away, and Clover sighs before squaring his shoulders. “No,” he answers, “we’re in. No need to risk keeping the students undercover any longer than necessary.”</p><p>“Good,” Robyn says. “I’m expecting a rendevouz with a Vale student in three days. You’re meeting them in a place called Crow Bar, 9PM sharp.”</p><p>Qrow snorts. Clover glances at him, then asks, “A bar? Seriously?”</p><p>“You know any other shady places to meet a contact without getting noticed?” Robyn asks flatly. “Maybe you can discuss our top secret plans in a Dust shop, or a bookstore.”</p><p>“Alright,” Clover snaps. </p><p>“Good. I’m expecting word from an Atlas student in a few days, too. I’ll let you know how soon we’re proceeding once you meet with the Vale student.”</p><p>Clover’s brows knit. “Understood.”</p><p>“What exactly do you plan to do,” Qrow asks then, “if one of your infiltrating students gets caught?”</p><p>Robyn meets his eyes, challenging. “If no one exposes them, they won’t be caught.”</p><p>“You’re putting those Were kids’ and other students’ lives in danger,” Qrow snaps. “You have a grudge against Hunters like me, fine, but our students are still completely innocent—”</p><p>“I don’t like it either,” Robyn interrupts. “But this plan is all we’ve got. It’s either this, or we keep getting slaughtered. None of this is going to be as clean cut as you want it. If you’ve got family among those students, then I get it, and I’m sorry, but we don’t save a whole civilization by playing it safe. I have to count on them to keep their wits and remember their training, and hope for the best. Now can we count on you to try to win over Vale’s Headmaster, or what?”</p><p>Qrow grits his teeth for a moment, then says, “Fine. But on one condition.”</p><p>Clover looks at him sharply. Robyn raises her brow again. “What is it?” she asks.</p><p>“If I can’t convince Ozpin,” Qrow says, “Clover’s part of the plan is off.”</p><p>“Qrow!” Clover objects.</p><p>“I mean it,” Qrow tells him firmly. “Oz is Headmaster because he’s damn good at his job. I’m going to have to tell him he’s got this all wrong, and I don’t know how easy it’ll be to convince him that I’m sane. I haven’t exactly been the pinnacle of mental health lately, and telling him you’re alive isn’t going to win me credibility points. If I can’t convince him to make the Guild stand down, I don’t want you playing martyr for this. You want to fight, then fine, I won’t stop you, but I’m not watching you stand up to speak just to get sniped from a goddamn mile away.”</p><p>Clover opens his mouth to protest, then looks helplessly to Robyn.</p><p>She shrugs. “Sounds reasonable to me,” she says. “We’re hitting Vale first, so once you meet with that student, get a time set up. A week out, minimum. Branwen, make your case to him the night before. Once the cat’s out of the bag, we’ve got to finish up fast. Everyone clear?”</p><p>Nods go around.</p><p>“Alright,” Robyn says, nodding. “Ebi, try not to get so caught up in scenting your boyfriend that you get caught.”</p><p>Qrow raises a brow. Clover turns beet red and manages, “You’re dead to me.”</p><p>Robyn lets out a little bark of laughter and starts shifting. “Ladies,” she growls, and she and her team suddenly scatter into the woods.</p><p>Silence. Then, from Qrow: “Scenting?”</p><p>Clover coughs. “Uh,” he says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nuzzling your partner so they smell like you. Mostly around pulse points, where the scent is strongest.” He pauses, flustered, then says, “I can’t help it.”</p><p>Qrow laughs. “You make it sound like I mind.”</p><p>Clover’s tail suddenly wags twice behind him before he clears his throat and it vanishes again. And then things go somber; they meet each other’s eyes and try to figure out what to say.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Qrow says. </p><p>Clover sighs, then shakes his head. “I know this is hard,” he murmurs.</p><p>“I can’t lose you again, Cloves,” Qrow whispers, stepping closer and grabbing Clover’s wrist. “I can’t.”</p><p>“I know,” Clover says softly. “I know. I’m so sorry, Qrow. I wish this was simpler.”</p><p>“I’ll try to convince Oz,” Qrow promises. “I’ll do my damnedest.”</p><p>Clover closes the last bit of distance between them, and they wrap arms around each other. Clover turns his nose into Qrow’s hair. “That’s all I ask,” he says. </p><p>Qrow suddenly realizes he feels a dampness against his arm; he draws back and realizes blood has seeped through Clover’s shirt near his ribs. “Are you alright?” he asks.</p><p>Clover blinks, then rubs the spot and lifts his shirt. The wound is already closed and turning pink. “She didn’t nick me too hard.” </p><p>Qrow stares at the scratches, then tugs at Clover’s hem. “You ruin clothes like this often?”</p><p>Clover smiles. “Gets to be a bit of a habit, I guess.”</p><p>Qrow hums and takes his hand. “If we hurry home, I can probably get the stain out.”</p><p>“It’s still torn.”</p><p>“Maybe, but you can wear it around the apartment without looking like you got mauled.” Qrow pauses as they start walking, then asks, “You looked stressed when Robyn mentioned Atlas. You know the student she sent there, or is this about your team?”</p><p>Clover frowns, then sighs and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Both, I guess,” he admits. “Outside of contact missions like this one, no one but Robyn knows which students are sent where to protect their identities, but…I have a gut feeling she sent Marrow.”</p><p>“That kid you mentioned before?”</p><p>“Mmhmm. He’s…got a fighting style that suits the Atlas Guild.”</p><p>Qrow chuckles. “What, noisy?”</p><p>“Noisy,” Clover affirms, though his mouth twitches up into a fond smile. “Brazen and a little flashy. But Marrow’s proud of his heritage, so I’m a little worried about how well he’ll hide it. It’s hard for me to control how often I shift partially, so I can’t imagine what it’s like to hold that back after doing it freely all your life.”</p><p>“Robyn seemed pretty confident about the students she sent,” Qrow says with heavy reluctance. “And if a Were had been caught on school grounds, all the Guilds would be on lockdown. I’m sure he’s fine.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Clover murmurs. “He’s already a great Hunter, and he’s a good kid.” He glances at Qrow, then asks, “How’re your nieces?”</p><p>“Haven’t heard much from them since I left for my hunt,” Qrow says. “They haven’t talked much about the work they’re doing in the Guild, but you know how busy the first few months are.”</p><p>“Are you worried about how they’ll take the news?” Clover asks hesitantly. “About Weres, I mean.”</p><p>Qrow exhales, the puff of air shifting his bangs. “Honestly, not really. Yang’s always been the type to stand up for others, and Ruby’s so gentle…I always wondered if this role would even suit her, considering she’d be training to kill bite victims, but she’s unbelievably stubborn and determined to help people any way she can.”</p><p>Clover laughs quietly.</p><p>Qrow looks at him. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Clover answers, though his cheeks are rosy.</p><p>Qrow raises his eyebrow, then shakes his head and goes on, “I wouldn’t be surprised if those two dropped everything to help Weres have a better life. Taiyang’s a bit of an optimist, so he might, too.”</p><p>“What about your sister?”</p><p>Qrow scoffs and looks away.</p><p>Clover frowns. “That bad, huh?”</p><p>“Last time I talked to her must’ve been seven or eight months ago.”</p><p>“Damn.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Is she still asking you about that gang?”</p><p>“When isn’t she?” Qrow scowls. “Wasn’t exactly in the mood for theft and arson last time she came by, so maybe she’ll finally take the hint and leave me the hell alone.”</p><p>Clover brings Qrow’s hand up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Things might get better someday.”</p><p>“Doubt it,” Qrow mutters, then sighs. “Sorry. I know sisters are a delicate topic. She just…”</p><p>“Drives you nuts?” Clover offers.</p><p>“Understatement of the century.” Qrow hesitates, then asks, “Have you thought about what to do about the serial biter?”</p><p>Clover’s expression darkens. His hand tightens in Qrow’s and he rubs his arm absentmindedly before changing his mind and thumbing at the cross hanging from his neck. “Knowing what I know now,” he says quietly, “the fact that he’s killed so many is even worse. The fact that he knew what he was doing when he killed my sister—” he cuts himself off as his voice goes raspy, then swallows and goes on. “Someone like that can’t be allowed to just roam free. And with the delicate political state we’re about to throw the world in, a serial biter is the last thing the Weres need. He needs to be taken down.”</p><p>Qrow nods. He’s never been overly fond of killing Weres to begin with, but some low satisfaction settles in his gut at the idea of hunting that Were in particular. He thinks of the way the Were had laughed in Oniyuri’s square, of his toothy smile and the gleam of his eyes as he’d dragged Clover into the woods. He thinks briefly of the year that followed, the first few miserable months after when he’d felt like his chest might cave in, when everything hurt so bad that waking from whatever little sleep he could manage had felt like being kicked in the ribs.</p><p>Hatred has never burned so hot in his gut before. And it’s probably wrong of him to feel so readily murderous, but is one life he has to admit he wouldn’t mind taking.</p><p>“Then when this is over,” Qrow murmurs, “we’ll finish this hunt together.”</p><p>Clover meets his eyes and smiles so tenderly that it nearly throws Qrow off-guard. Sometimes he still can’t believe that Clover wants him the way he does, that he’d been pining just as long as Qrow had. </p><p>Clover jokes half-heartedly, “Assuming we survive?”</p><p>“Hey, pessimism is my thing,” Qrow scolds gently.</p><p>Clover laughs, and the way the sound of it lifts Qrow’s spirit is unfair at best. “I think realism is a little more accurate,” he says.</p><p>“Don’t ruin this for me,” Qrow says dryly. “Pessimism is a central part of my reputation.”</p><p>Clover tugs him to a stop, the afternoon sun peeking through the canopy of trees and casting shifting light across their features. He reaches up to cup Qrow’s face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “And I adore you for that,” he admits openly.</p><p>Qrow feels his cheeks grow hot. Clover leans in to kiss him, just as slow and unhurried as he had this morning, and as his eyes flutter shut, Qrow thinks helplessly—just for a moment—about the fact that the back seat of Clover’s car folds down.</p><p>By the time they make it back to the road, the warm summer sky has begun to turn faintly gray with clouds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's my first try writing the infamous Miss Hill, so be kind to me lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Music for this chapter:</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/7K3hpb-wijU">Love Has No Limits</a> by Fleurie and <a href="https://youtu.be/-fc6gGmOB_M">Army</a> by Besomorph.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow dreams, as he has a few times this past week, of hunting and Harbinger, of strong hands and sweet smiles full of too sharp teeth, and then he startles awake as his body registers real motion. He blinks in dazed confusion, eyes flitting around his dark room and his brain finally deciphering sound: a loud  cry, the creak of the bed, heavy gasping, footsteps thudding across the carpet. As his vision adjusts to the little sliver of street light peeking through the curtain, he sees a too-broad form disappear into the hall.</p><p>“Clover?” Qrow calls, sitting upright. His hand falls to the warm sheets where Clover had been just a moment ago. Qrow blinks again, aware enough now to feel worry settle in his chest, then climbs out of bed.</p><p>The bathroom door is ajar, the light from inside casting a bright column across the adjacent wall. Qrow hesitates outside before he raps his knuckle against the door. “Clover?” he asks again. Anxiety presses at the base of his throat when no answer comes, and he carefully peers inside. </p><p>Clover stands hunched over and leaning on the sink, half-shifted and covering his eyes with one hand. He’s visibly shaking, his tail hanging between his legs and his ears pressed flat against his head, and in the mirror, Qrow can see teeth too big to fit properly behind his lips. Each of his exhales comes out near a growl, his huge shoulders heaving with each breath.</p><p>Qrow’s hair stands on end, as it always does when Clover changes. Training still has a grip on his body, still makes his fingers curl for the hilt of his sword and has the muscle of his calves coiled to spring, but this time, it’s all overshadowed by the way his heart clenches at the sight of someone he loves in distress. “Brothers,” Qrow breathes, stepping the rest of the way into the bathroom, and he’s barely brushed Clover’s arm when Clover whirls on him, a snarl tearing from his throat and his teeth bared, eyes glowing bright and his pupils small.</p><p>Qrow stumbles back, hand shooting out to catch the edge of the door frame before he can fall into the tub, mouth hanging open in shock and his heart hammering against his ribs, body tense like anticipating a blow. </p><p>Clover stops and blinks in recognition, then immediately shrinks back, frustrated tears falling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he says thickly, words marred against his canines, and he rakes both of his clawed hands through his hair.</p><p>Qrow reminds himself to breathe—<em>in through the nose, hold, out through the mouth.</em> After a missed beat, he slowly stands up straight. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he murmurs, then opens his arms in offering.</p><p>Clover’s bottom lip trembles, and he takes a sudden interest in the floor. Qrow takes a step and hesitates, then steps forward again and pulls Clover into a hug. He feels Clover’s hands settle against his back and tenses at the faint prick of claws through his shirt; Clover sighs into his hair and shudders, then slowly shrinks back down to his normal size and drops his face against Qrow’s shoulder.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Qrow asks softly.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Clover.”</p><p>Another shaky sigh. “Nightmare.”</p><p>Qrow turns and noses at him gently. “You want to talk about it?” he asks.</p><p>Clover shakes his head. </p><p>“Alright,” Qrow murmurs, deciding not to press, and curls fingers into the short hair at the nape of Clover’s neck. Clover just squeezes him tighter, ears springing up from beneath his hair just to press flat again, tail hanging low but swishing slowly now.</p><p>They stand there for a while, the neckline of Qrow’s shirt growing damp with tears as he smooths his hand over Clover’s back. After a moment, when Clover’s hitching breath evens out, Qrow murmurs, “Rinse your face, Lucky Charm.”</p><p>Clover nods silently, drawing back and avoiding Qrow’s gaze.</p><p>Qrow reaches out and lifts his chin, unwilling to let him close himself off. Clover meets his eyes, and both of them keep silent until Clover lets out a slow breath, and Qrow steps out of the bathroom to the sound of the sink running.</p><p>When he returns to their bedroom with a glass of water, Clover—fully human again—is sitting on the bed with his face buried in his hands, the lamp on the bedside table casting a warm glow over the room. He glances up as Qrow enters, takes the water when it’s offered, and takes a long drink.</p><p>Qrow sits beside him, leaning forward to rest his arms against his knees and lace his fingers together, and waits patiently.</p><p>Clover lowers the glass from his mouth. “I’m sorry I woke you,” he murmurs.</p><p>Qrow frowns. Clover’s always been optimistic, always been a good leader, always…too self-dependent. “You don’t have to apologize every time you feel helpless,” he says.</p><p>Clover looks up sharply. His brows knit, and he looks away again.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me you were having night terrors?” Qrow presses.</p><p>“Because I—” Clover starts, then cuts himself off, thumbs rubbing at the rim of his glass once before he sets it on the nightstand. “They’re not that frequent,” he mutters. “It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>Qrow’s frown deepens, and he raises a brow.</p><p>“It’s not,” Clover insists.</p><p>“You waking up in tears isn’t a big deal,” Qrow repeats flatly.</p><p>“It’s—” </p><p>“Do not tell me it’s fine,” Qrow interrupts sharply. “It’s not fine. Why are you trying to hide this from me?”</p><p>Clover winces.</p><p>And Qrow stops, then lets his breath out harshly and rakes a hand through his hair. In the silence that follows, the answer becomes obvious: Clover has not told him because he thought it would make Qrow upset, because he had seen the mess of Qrow’s apartment and the evidence of his downward spirals and had thought his own trauma would be too much to add on to already heavy baggage. His pessimistic comment in the woods makes more sense now—Qrow realizes that the terror he felt at the idea of losing Clover a second time had left him blind to the fact that Clover was being brave in spite of his fear, not for a lack of it.</p><p>He reaches out and brushes fingers against the back of Clover’s neck, then pulls the man into his arms. Clover goes with the motion out of surprise, shoulders tensing briefly before he relaxes and wraps his arms around Qrow’s middle.</p><p>“You can <em> always </em> come to me, Cloves,” Qrow murmurs. “I haven’t done the best job of showing you that lately, but nothing’s changed. You can still talk to me.”</p><p>Clover squeezes him tighter and nuzzles against his pulse. “Okay,” he whispers.</p><p>“I want to comfort you when you need it.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Qrow withdraws enough to press their foreheads together. The intensity of the love he has for this man feels like enough pressure to deflate his lungs. “Promise me you’re not going to keep trying to endure this on your own,” he whispers.</p><p>There’s a soft exhale against his neck, and then a press of lips there. “I promise.”</p><p>For a moment, they just breathe. Then, from Qrow: “Do you want to go back to sleep?”</p><p>Clover sighs tiredly. “Yeah.” He sits up, then hesitates and asks, almost watery, “Will you hold me for a while?”</p><p>Qrow huffs a faint laugh. “For a while,” he repeats, as if the notion were ridiculous, then crawls into bed and lays on his back, patting his own chest. “C’mere.”</p><p>Clover’s bright green eyes soften, and he reaches over to turn off the lamp before settling against Qrow’s side, head against his heart. Qrow brings his free hand up to rub idle circles against Clover’s shoulder with his thumb, the other carding through his hair. His arm will be asleep by morning, he thinks, though the soft thumping he hears against the bed is more than enough to make up for it.</p><p>He stays awake until he hears soft snoring, and falls asleep almost immediately after. In the morning, over coffee, Clover tells him that he'd dreamed of pain in his shoulder, of wicked smiles, of Qrow calling his name.</p>
<hr/><p>“So,” Qrow says, drawing circles on Clover’s shoulderblade with his index finger, “This bar you’re supposed to go to today—”</p><p>“Qrow,” Clover says wearily, lifting his head from Qrow’s chest. “Am I going to like what you’re about to tell me?”</p><p>“You don’t really <em> need </em> to enjoy everything I say, do you?”</p><p>Clover closes his eyes and exhales, then buries his face in Qrow’s shoulder. “Brothers.”</p><p>“It’s nothing major!” Qrow objects. “It’s just…I’m sort of banned from there.”</p><p>Clover looks up so sharply, Qrow nearly jumps. “You tell me this <em> now?” </em> he exclaims.</p><p>“I didn’t think I was going until last night!” Qrow says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I thought it’d spook the student if I went.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me last night, then?” Clover groans, rubbing his temple.</p><p>“You distracted me.”</p><p>Clover shoots him a look, but Qrow doesn’t miss the way his cheeks flush pink. “How did you even get banned, anyway?” he asks.</p><p>“Uh,” Qrow says, sheepish, “I may have started an…altercation.”</p><p>“An altercation.”</p><p>“A little one!”</p><p>“You got <em> banned.” </em></p><p>“Okay, true, but I was right,” Qrow says, then pauses and adds, “and I won.”</p><p>“Of course you did.” Clover scoffs, and Qrow can’t help but reach up to poke at the corner of his mouth, where a smile is threatening to break loose, until Clover bats his hand away. “Quit it.”</p><p>“I’ll still go,” Qrow offers, though the playfulness still lingers in his voice. “It’ll be busy on a Friday night, and they should be playing tonight’s Guild match. I can slip in without being noticed, easy.”</p><p>“You’re six foot four, Qrow.”</p><p>“Unnoticeable,” Qrow says dismissively. “C’mon, you said so yourself. Quietest Hunter in the Guilds, right?”</p><p>“Don’t use my own flattery against me,” Clover mutters. “Shit.” He combs a hand through his bangs. “Now that I think about it, it probably would make the student nervous.”</p><p>Qrow grins and reaches up to pat Clover’s head, unable to help the delight in his expression when Clover’s ears spring up from beneath his hair. “It’s not your fault your brain wasn’t working when we had that conversation,” he teases.</p><p>Clover turns red, immediately grabbing a pillow and shoving it in Qrow’s face. “Shut up, oh my gods,” he says over Qrow’s muffled laughter.</p><p>“Okay, okay, but seriously,” Qrow says, pushing the pillow away, “I want to scope the place out before you go in. I wasn’t the only Hunter that frequented that place.”</p><p>There’s a long pause. They haven’t talked much about Qrow’s alcoholism yet; Qrow’s too embarrassed, and every time the mention of it comes up, Clover looks so heartbroken and distraught that Qrow’s quick to change the subject. After a moment, Clover asks, “You sure you can get in unnoticed?”</p><p>“With the Guild match on tonight,” Qrow reasons, “the bar’s gonna be too packed for anyone to pay any attention to me.”</p><p>“What about the student?”</p><p>Qrow pauses, then sighs quietly. “Considering the timeline of this plan…they wouldn’t know me.”</p><p>“I know,” Clover says softly, then meets Qrow’s eyes again. “They’ll smell you.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“You smell like silver and gunpowder,” Clover explains, tapping the side of his nose.</p><p>Qrow blinks. “Oh.” Suddenly self-conscious, he hunches his shoulders and chews his lip. “Does that bother you?”</p><p>“You’ve always smelled a little like gunpowder to me,” Clover says gently, then reaches up to brush Qrow’s bangs from his forehead. “The silver is new, but it’s just noticeable. Not bad.”</p><p>Qrow’s eyes flit over Clover’s face, and he leans into the touch when Clover’s hand settles at his cheek. “Well…like I said, I’m not the only Hunter that…went there. I’ll just make sure I appear relaxed enough to stay non-threatening.” He grins, then winks. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll think I smell more like a wolf than a Hunter.”</p><p>Clover shoves the pillow in Qrow’s face again.</p>
<hr/><p>It feels strange to be back in a bar when he hasn’t drank anything since he brought Clover home.</p><p>It’s been rough. The cravings are still strong and the absence of a burn in his throat has been sitting in the back of his mind for days. He’s been lucky so far—the symptoms of withdrawal have been mild enough for him to hide or explain away, between the shaking hands and the sweating and the obvious restlessness. He’s anxious, it’s summer, they’re trapped in the apartment for now, and so on, and he’s not sure Clover believes him, but he never presses.</p><p>Qrow appreciates that. And he’ll bring it up when he’s ready—really, he will—but for now all he wants to do is bask in Clover’s presence, not work through his grief with the very object of his mourning.</p><p>He enters the bar with the hood of his jacket up, or rather, one of Clover’s old jackets dug out of storage. Hardly anyone’s paying him mind. The place is loud with people there to either watch the Guild match or complain about their work week, and the bartender is thankfully so busy rushing through drinks that he doesn’t even look up when Qrow slips by.</p><p>There’s a small group of Vale Hunters here watching the match, people Qrow has seen and worked with but doesn’t know well. They all seem to be preoccupied with their conversation or the TV, so Qrow takes a seat at a booth in the back of the room on the opposite side of the bar and waits for Clover to find him. There’s a few people scattered near him, some couples and a group of three and a few loners, one of which is only two booths up, the cap atop a head of long, dark hair obscuring their eyes as they flip through messages on their Scroll.</p><p>Qrow eyes all of them curiously and tries to pick out which one might be a wolf, but if the contact is here, they’ve hidden themselves well.</p><p>Qrow thumbs through his own Scroll while he waits; there’s a message from Oz asking after his health since he hasn’t been back to the Guildhall in a few days, another from Tai, and a third from Ruby. Qrow bites his tongue and wants to tell them all everything, wants to say that for just a moment, he’s the happiest he’s been in a long time, but all he can offer for now is <em> I’m fine, thank you, I have groceries, thank you, I miss you too, thank you. </em></p><p>In a few days, they’ll all look at him like he’s crazy, so it’s best that he not give them any reason to be suspicious.</p><p>A few minutes later, Clover walks in, hood up and a baseball cap hiding his face. He pauses in the doorway, glances around and lets his gaze linger at the far end of the bar before turning in Qrow’s direction, keeping his head down as he comes nearer. </p><p>When he passes the crapped stranger with the dark hair in the nearby booth, he stops short.</p><p>Clover looks up, and they meet each other’s eyes for a moment before Clover’s nose twitches, and he abruptly takes a seat at the stranger’s booth. The stranger doesn’t even flinch, just looks up calmly and offers a small smile. Qrow almost startles at how young she is—she certainly can’t be much older than Ruby…Yang’s age, maybe, with gold eyes that glow a bit too bright for a place with such dim lighting.</p><p>“Hope you weren’t waiting long,” Clover says quietly.</p><p>“Only a few minutes,” she answers. </p><p>Clover hesitates, then lowers his voice. “Your friend uses a lot of ammunition,” he says, glancing towards the bar. Qrow follows his gaze and ends up squinting; there’s a blonde sitting near the other Hunters quietly, sipping from a drink that looks suspiciously like lemonade. The cut of her hair seems burningly familiar, but he can’t get a good look at her face. He’s not sure how he missed her before.</p><p>When the girl doesn’t answer, Clover presses, “You <em> are </em> friends?”</p><p>“Yes,” she answers carefully, then looks directly at Qrow and adds, a little sly, “Your friend smells like ammunition too.”</p><p>Qrow startles, caught, and looks away sharply. Clover lets out a laugh of surprise. “I suppose he does.”</p><p>“Does your friend like dogs?”</p><p>“I hope so,” Clover muses, glancing back to toss a wink over his shoulder. “Or else I’m in trouble.”</p><p>Qrow flushes and sinks down in his seat. Hadn’t Clover been the one embarrassed about their mixed scents just this morning?</p><p>“How’s Aunt Robyn?” the girl asks, tucking her Scroll into her pocket.</p><p>“She’s good,” Clover answers, “She wants to come visit you next week.”</p><p>“Friday morning?”</p><p>“If your class schedule will allow it.”</p><p>“I’m sure I can fit her in,” the girl says dryly.</p><p>“How are classes going?” Clover asks.</p><p>“My classmates are passing with flying colors,” she answers. “We’ve even been on a few Grimm hunts. And I’ve…made some friends.”</p><p>“More than one?” Clover asks curiously.</p><p>She nods. “Several.”</p><p>Clover’s shoulders relax. “Good,” he says, pleased. “Your aunt will be glad to hear that.”</p><p>The girl hesitates, then says, “I’ve met Headmaster Ozpin a few times, too,” she says. “He seems…kind.”</p><p>Clover tilts his head, scratching at his jaw. “I’ve met him briefly a few times myself,” he says. “He seems like a reasonable man.” He glances back at Qrow again. “A friend of mine knows him well.”</p><p>The girl glances at Qrow too. “Let’s hope that helps us,” she murmurs, rising from the table. “I suppose Aunt Robyn’s flight will land early?”</p><p>“Before the sun rises, most likely.” Clover nods at her. “Take care ‘till then.”</p><p>“You too,” she replies, then stops, as if remembering something. “Actually, can I ask you a question?”</p><p>Clover blinks. “Sure.”</p><p>“Are you the only…um…non-student from home that’s in town right now?”</p><p>“To my knowledge, yes,” Clover answers hesitantly. “Why?”</p><p>The girl glances around, then leans down and whispers something in Clover’s ear. Qrow strains to hear and can’t make it out, but the line of Clover’s shoulders tense, and even from this angle, Qrow can see his face has gone pale.</p><p>“BRANWEN!” a voice suddenly booms. Qrow jumps and looks towards the bar, where the bartender is angrily pointing at him. “What the hell are you doing in my bar, you son of a bitch?! Get out!”</p><p>“Whoops!” Qrow calls back, jumping up from the table and bolting. He tosses a helpless grin over his shoulder at Clover and a playful, two-fingered salute at the bartender as he flees out the door, ignoring the yelling that echoes after him.</p><p>He waits in the car for Clover in the dark and grins innocently as Clover opens the car door. “How much trouble am I in?” he asks teasingly, though the smile slips from his face when Clover climbs into the passenger seat instead of the back and doesn’t say a word. “Cloves?”</p><p>“There’s another Were here,” Clover rasps.</p><p>Qrow’s blood runs cold. “What?”</p><p>“That girl,” Clover says, apparently past caring about the way the streetlights dimly illuminate his face as he takes off his hood and hat to run fingers through his hair. “Her name’s Blake. She said she caught the scent of a Were in the woods on her last training hunt, and it wasn’t me.”</p><p>Qrow exhales harshly, feeling his palms go sweaty. “Shit,” he says. “Robyn doesn’t have anyone else poking around here, does she?”</p><p>“No,” Clover answers, voice rough. “No, she doesn’t.”</p><p>Qrow rubs his palms on his jeans anxiously, then reaches out to take Clover’s hand. “Hey, look at me.”</p><p>Clover looks. His brow is pinched, his green eyes bright in the dark. By the light of the streetlamps, Qrow can see that his cheeks are lined with hair that hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. Qrow says quickly, “Don’t panic,” and he’s not sure if it’s more for himself or for Clover, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter.</p><p>“I’m trying,” Clover says, and it comes out halfway like a growl.</p><p>Qrow leans over, reaches up to cup the back of Clover’s neck and pull him close until their foreheads touch. His heart is still thudding in his chest. Not for the first time, he briefly imagines what it would be like to see that Were again, and not for the first time, he understands with painful clarity why Clover had taken off after him in Oniyuri.</p><p>Qrow takes a deep breath and lets it out in slow measures, hears Clover exhale on beat. Qrow imagines Harbinger in his hands and the easy recollection of the hilt’s texture hones all his fury and gripping terror into hyperawareness. He inhales and exhales and listens to Clover’s purposeful breathing, wonders if Clover’s sharp hearing can catch the way his heart slows to something manageable.</p><p>“We have seven days,” Clover says quietly. It seems both like ages and like no time at all. “If he kills someone after we rally at Vale—”</p><p>“We’ll find him,” Qrow says with conviction. “We will.”</p><p>The drive back to the apartment is silent, but they grip each other's hands tightly over the center console. Back in their room, as they undress and pull on bed shorts, Qrow admits, “I think that Hunter that was with Blake was my niece.”</p><p>“Yang?” Clover asks. He thinks on it. “I didn’t get a good look at her, and I don’t know her scent.”</p><p>“That little firecracker’s hard to miss,” Qrow mutters. “I’m not sure how she snuck past me. Stealth isn’t exactly her style.”</p><p>“Maybe she finally took some of your lessons to heart,” Clover teases as they climb into bed.</p><p>“My luck isn’t that good,” Qrow says dryly. He sighs and crawls under the cover, waits for Clover to shut off the light and slide into his arms before he continues. “I wonder if she and Ruby are the friends Blake was talking about.”</p><p>“They might be,” Clover says quietly. There’s a pause. “You don’t want to ask Yang if that was her?”</p><p>Qrow chews his lip, feeling his chest grow tight. “If I’m wrong, she’ll just ask what I was doing in a bar.”</p><p>He feels Clover’s thumb slide soothingly along his hip. After a moment, he replies, “Maybe she’ll ask you, since the bartender yelled your name loud enough for the whole town to hear.”</p><p>Qrow laughs softly. “And here I thought I wasn’t in trouble.”</p><p>“You said you could get in unseen.”</p><p>“And I did! Getting out was the problem.”</p><p>Clover sits up. Qrow’s breath always catches a little bit at the glow of his eyes, but it’s starting to be a hitch of interest instead of just adrenaline. Clover says, “Qrow.”</p><p>Qrow grins and wonders if Clover can see it. He realizes absently that he never asked if Clover could see in the dark. “Yes, dear?” he answers, cheeky.</p><p>“I’m going to kiss you goodnight,” Clover says calmly, “and I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, and we’re both going to go to sleep.”</p><p>“Yes, dear,” Qrow repeats, and Clover huffs, and kisses him, and settles with his nose tucked into Qrow’s neck.</p><p>Qrow stays awake a little longer, thinking about how Yang and Ruby had seen him drunk and sobbing into Taiyang’s shoulder, before Clover’s soft snoring lulls him to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some girls appear...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Music for this chapter: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPCgDc6D0pE">Love Me Right</a> by Yuppycult and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4TQgFWxCVQ">Waste of Time</a> by Lostboycrow and Bea Miller</p><p>Must again reiterate that my music choices aren't themes for the story but just good sounds I vibe with lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Qrow gets up around two in the morning to go sit in the living room and remembers with a jolt that there’s no alcohol in the house. It’s a humbling realization, that he hasn’t been clean long enough to stop forgetting. </p><p>He hasn’t even been united with Clover for a full week yet; Qrow knows it will take much longer than that to heal, but he still can’t help feeling that after drowning for so long, after regaining the very thing he’d lost, he should be doing better than this. He is still anxious and often shaky. Even now, his leg is bouncing in itchy restlessness as he stares up at the ceiling, waiting for exhaustion to overtake him.</p><p>“Qrow?”</p><p>He startles and lifts his head from the back of the couch to find Clover standing in the doorway, and wonders absently if he hadn’t heard the man’s footsteps because he’d begun to doze off. “You scared me,” he says, then stops. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Clover opens his mouth, then shuts it and swallows. His face is as pale as a sheet and tension plainly lines his body, his brows pinched tight, his mouth a wavering line that betrays the threat of tears. After a moment of hesitation, he quickly crosses the living room and crawls over the couch, barely giving Qrow enough time to open his arms before he settles against Qrow’s side, face hidden against his neck.</p><p>Qrow blinks, then reaches up to cup the back of Clover’s head. Wolf ears spring from beneath his hair almost immediately, flicked back in distress. “More nightmares?” Qrow asks, and he only gets a silent nod in response.</p><p>He sighs. They should both see someone after this, he knows. Tai had suggested he get help hardly a month and a half ago, and Qrow had scoffed at it then, but without the lens of grief obscuring his view of the world, it’s easy to see all the cracks in their wellbeing, all the little chipped pieces and broken glass. There must be professionals for this sort of thing in the Were clans, but maybe Clover had refused for the same reasons he had: because words had been both too much and not enough, because everything would’ve been better if it all had simply not happened, because vengeance tends to linger in the back of the mind.</p><p>Qrow smooths his hand along the short hair at the back of Clover’s neck and hums quietly for a moment, pausing when he thinks the noise may be unwelcome but resuming when the soft thump of Clover’s tail against the couch prompts him to continue. </p><p>After a long moment, Clover asks quietly, “Why are you up?”</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep,” Qrow murmurs. “I still get nightmares, too.”</p><p>Clover squirms against him, trying to press closer still, somehow. The rhythmic thumping of his tail slows to a stop. “How bad?”</p><p>“Not like yours,” Qrow answers, laying his cheek against the top of Clover’s head. “They wake me a lot, but I wouldn’t call them terrors.” He pauses, then adds, “It’s gotten better since you came home.”</p><p>A soft sound of discontent surfaces from Clover’s throat. Qrow can’t help the half-smile that ticks up at the edge of his mouth; in a more casual conversation, he’d tease that it sounded too much like a whine. “I wish I could’ve come home sooner,” Clover says, “or at least told you, or…something.”</p><p>“You did what you could.”</p><p>Clover lifts his head, meeting Qrow’s gaze before his eyes fall to his mouth. “I know,” he says softly, leaning in for a kiss, “but I missed you.”</p><p>“I can’t take you seriously when you have puppy ears,” Qrow admits. Clover flushes and leans back, and the ears vanish for just a bit before Qrow takes Clover’s chin in his hand and kisses him, and they spring right back up. The ruined moment thankfully doesn’t allow him to dwell too deeply on the way <em> I missed you </em>settles hard in his chest; he’d been so happy to have Clover back, so caught up in the euphoria of not having to ache for him that Clover feeling the same way all that time had not been something he thought on for too long. And perhaps he hadn’t allowed himself to think that Clover had longed for him so much until just now.</p><p><em> I love you, </em>he almost says against Clover’s mouth, but instead, as they break apart just to nose at each other, he says quietly, “I usually come in here for a drink after I have a nightmare.”</p><p>Clover stills, waiting. </p><p>Qrow exhales. “I want to talk about it,” he says after a moment. “But I don’t want you to feel guilty. This isn’t your fault.”</p><p>Clover’s green eyes flit all over his face. His brows pinch, his mouth set in an unhappy line, but he replies, “I know.”</p><p>“I know seeing the way I grieved is…shitty.”</p><p>Clover reaches up to smooth fingers along Qrow’s jaw. “Are you seriously worried about me right now?” he asks. </p><p>“You always look upset.”</p><p>“Because knowing you went through that makes my heart hurt,” Clover says, holding his gaze. He’s always been too honest and open like this, or at least, always too open to Qrow. It makes Qrow’s cheeks turn pink, even now. Clover goes on, “Me being upset doesn’t mean I expect you to shoulder this on your own. Talk to me.”</p><p>“Using my own advice against me, huh?” Qrow muses.</p><p>“It was good advice,” Clover says with a hopeful grin.</p><p>Qrow brushes his thumb against Clover’s bottom lip. He loves this man. He feels fit to burst with it, feels like he could fly with the airy, fluttering affection that swims in his chest whenever he looks at him. It’s more than enough to make him willing to be vulnerable, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling exposed, raw, tender and split open.</p><p>“It’s not a pretty story,” he murmurs.</p><p>Clover leans forward to press their foreheads together. “It doesn’t need to be.”</p><p>Qrow takes a deep breath, laces their fingers together and squeezes, and spends the next hour bringing them both to tears. By time they go back to sleep, he feels lighter than he has since that night in Higanbana, since they’d laid side by side in bed and Clover had agreed to be his partner.</p><hr/><p>They make love in the early morning hours, before the sun is even up, and sleep the afternoon away all tangled up in each other. That night, they go hunting.</p><p>“Do you want Kingfisher?” Qrow asks.</p><p>Clover hesitates. After a moment, he shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says quietly.</p><p>“It doesn’t have to be ever,” Qrow reminds him gently as he tucks Harbinger into the car trunk. “If you want to hunt with your teeth, that’s fine too.”</p><p>There’s another beat of silence before Clover lets out his breath and reaches up to touch the cross hanging at his collarbones. “I miss having a weapon in my hand,” he admits. “It’s just…I get anxious when I think about it. Feels like I can’t breathe.”</p><p>Qrow puts an arm around his shoulders and squeezes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not going anywhere,” he says. “It’ll be there when you’re ready.”</p><p>Clover leans into the kiss, then tugs playfully at the bandana around Qrow’s neck. “Thanks,” he says gratefully.</p><p>Qrow flushes, just a bit. He’s never been able to help it, getting flustered at Clover showing affection in that openly genuine way of his, and being lovers has hardly helped with this. “Can you see in the dark?” he asks suddenly.</p><p>In the midnight streets of Qrow’s neighborhood, lit only by dim lamplights along the streets, Clover grins with all his teeth. “Yes,” he says, green eyes too-bright, his voice slipping into something near a growl.</p><p>Qrow blushes darker, a little shiver running down his spine. “Well, good,” he says, coughing. “You can set up camp, then.”</p><p>Clover scoffs and shoves him playfully. “If we build a fire first, you’ll be able to see just fine.”</p><p>“You know, I think I need glasses,” Qrow replies, nearly laughing. “I’m getting old. Everything’s going fuzzy—” </p><p>“Get in the car,” Clover says with a roll of his eyes, but the smile never leaves his mouth.</p><p>They’re leaving at midnight to sneak Clover out of the apartment, but hunting at night is too dangerous for Qrow, so they’ll make camp and rest until dawn, then begin tracking the Were that Blake had smelled. Clover had gotten an approximate location from her, and with any luck— </p><p>They haven’t had much time to practice together with Clover’s new fighting style. Qrow doesn’t exactly know how he’ll get at that Were with the two of them likely to be a flurry of fur and teeth, but if he slips from Clover’s grasp for even a second, Qrow will be waiting for him.</p><p>In the meantime, a car ride; Qrow turns to grin at Clover and finds him already smiling, and for a moment, things seem just like old times, where they’d set off late at night to make it to a hunting ground by morning, where they’d drive down dark streets and darker country roads blaring their music and uncaring of who they might’ve briefly disturbed as they passed.</p><p>They park at the edge of the woods. Qrow clips Harbinger to his belt, and they both strap supplies to their backs—the tent (just one, this time), their sleeping bags (soon to be zipped together), food, clothes, and ammunition. Clover takes Qrow’s hand, his eyes brilliant in the dark, and the first-quarter moon silhouettes him in pale light as he leads Qrow into the woods.</p><p>While Qrow struggles to set up as much as he can by flashlight, Clover builds a fire. Tent setup goes faster then, with two pairs of hands and an orange glow cast over their little camp site. Qrow’s attention is frequently stolen by his lover’s form, which seems to grow a little more wolf-like the longer they’re in the forest; his ears swivel freely towards the soft sounds of nocturnal wildlife, his tail swishing a little faster whenever Qrow steps near, his arms and his jawline a little shaggier and his teeth a little sharper than they should be.</p><p>Qrow whistles softly once, because he can’t ever resist a chance to tease him. Clover’s ears flick towards the sound just a hair before he looks up, blinking curiously. When he realizes what Qrow has done, he scowls.</p><p>“Sorry,” Qrow laughs.</p><p>“You’re having too much fun with this,” Clover tells him, but there’s amusement in his voice, and his tail sways idly.</p><p>“I’ll stop if it bothers you,” Qrow says. “I just think it’s cute, is all.”</p><p>Clover flushes. Even in the warm light of the fire, Qrow can plainly see the blood rush to his cheeks, and it puts a flutter in his belly. “I don’t mind,” Clover says after a moment.</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>Clover’s tail swings a little faster. “I’m sure.”</p><p>Qrow feels fit to burst with affection. The feeling lingers as they zip their sleeping bags together and crawl into it, as Clover takes both of his hands and drags them up to kiss. The fire flickers low outside their tent, and Qrow crowds close to Clover’s bare chest as they drift off to sleep, his Scroll set to wake them in only a few hours.</p><p>They kiss each other good morning before they dress and eat, touch their respective lucky charms, and set out to track Clover’s would-be killer.</p><hr/><p>“Anything?”</p><p>Clover’s half-shifted and on edge, pupils blown wide as his eyes flit around the forest. He stands a head taller than Qrow, shoulders over-bulked and fuzzy, his teeth just a bit too big for his mouth. “Nothing,” he murmurs, and the growl in his voice sends a low, involuntary shudder down Qrow’s spine. His nostrils flare. “Scent’s…old. Nearly gone.”</p><p>The whole day’s been a waste. The area doesn’t even have any Grimm since the students cleared it out, and all the signs of activity are already faded, moss and lichen growing over the grooves left in trees and pawprints marred by fresher deer trails. The sun is maybe an hour from setting, and although Qrow’s enamored with how the soft light fits along Clover’s jaw and turns all his hair or fur or <em> whatever </em>it is golden, he’s mostly just tired and sore.</p><p>“We should head back to camp,” Qrow sighs, combing his hand through his hair. He pulls his scroll from his pocket, thumbing through alerts and reports. “There’s been no sign of him around the city, so at least we know he’s not heading north. We can try again in the morning.”</p><p>Clover doesn’t answer. The one ear he’d had flicked towards Qrow swivels away in favor of forest sounds the moment Qrow stops talking. At his sides, his hands shake, jolting ever so slightly every time his claws dig into his palms.</p><p>“Clover,” Qrow says, stepping in front of him. “Hey. Look at me.”</p><p>Ears flick towards him. Clover glances at him once before his gaze snaps back to their surroundings. The hair along his shoulders and over his jaw grows thicker, creeping over his skin.</p><p>“Hey,” Qrow repeats sharply, reaching up to cup Clover’s cheek and turn his face forward again, unafraid of his teeth. The transformation abruptly stops, and Clover blinks at him as if mildly startled.</p><p>“Lets go back to camp,” Qrow says, leaving no room to argue.</p><p>Another blink, and Clover exhales, shrinking down until he’s human sized again, if not still a bit hairier than he should be. Qrow briefly entertains the idea of Clover growing out his stubble. Clover touches the cross at his neck, then squeezes it and leans into Qrow’s hand. “Alright,” he says.</p><p>They return and get a fire going again, eat, and sleep. Qrow startles awake in the dead of night, breathless and sweating, and finds Clover sitting at the mouth of the tent, silhouetted by glowing embers, his bright eyes falling on Qrow’s face when he hears movement.</p><p>Qrow sits up a little further and takes Clover’s wrist, pulling him back down to the sleeping bag. He’s not sure if the way he holds Clover to his chest in a tangle of limbs is more for him or for his lover, but ultimately it doesn’t matter, and he couldn’t care less, either way.</p><hr/><p>The next three days of hunts go just as poorly.</p><p>Clover snarls each time he loses the Were’s scent. Each day, it grows fainter. Qrow feels largely useless when all he can do is track old prints, and watching Clover pace restlessly whenever they reach a dead end leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.</p><p>Robyn and her rebellion will arrive at Vale’s Guildhall in two days, and they’ve found nothing.</p><p>Back at camp, Qrow toasts sandwiches on Harbinger’s blade, the hilt wedged between the ground and his foot, the guard propped against a rock and the blade angled just above the flames. Clover pokes at the logs with a stick, sullen and silent. The nearly full moon peeks between the clouds, and his green eyes glow bright even in the light of the fire.</p><p>“Maybe we should go home and rest,” Clover mutters, propping an arm on his knees and resting his chin there.</p><p>Qrow glances at him, then withdraws his sword and pokes at his food. Deeming it crunchy enough, he shifts the sandwiches to paper plates and sets the blade on the ground. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“I can’t find him,” Clover says, clearly frustrated. “Even the scent at our starting point has completely faded out.”</p><p>“We still haven’t searched to the west much,” Qrow points out. He hands Clover one of the plates, but Clover only sets it down at his side. “He could be heading that way.”</p><p>Clover lays his cheek against his arm and prods at the fire again. “If that’s true, he could be halfway to Vacuo by now,” he says, then closes his eyes and sighs. “Robyn will be here with the others soon. I’d rather spend the next couple of days with you.” His brows knit, and he looks away. “You know…in case something goes wrong.”</p><p>Qrow feels like someone has wrapped fingers around his heart and squeezed. He bites his lip, then gets up and moves to sit beside him, setting both of their sandwiches out of the way. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispers, and curses the way his voice wavers.</p><p>Clover meets his gaze and flashes him a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I do,” he says, and his voice sounds watery, too. “If even one person’s baby sister survives because of what we do at Vale, then yeah, I do.”</p><p>He’s right. He’s right, and Qrow knows it, but it doesn’t change the fear that thrums down his spine, doesn’t change the way nausea swims in the pit of his stomach, doesn’t change the way love and lingering grief collapses his chest into a cavern of still-raw wounds.</p><p>Qrow draws his knees up to his chest and lays his head against Clover’s shoulder. Clover presses a kiss into Qrow’s hair and then lays his cheek there. For a moment, there’s only quiet other than the crackle of burning wood, only crickets and the faraway hum of nightlife, only them and their breathing.</p><p>And then a twig snaps.</p><p>Both of them freeze. Clover’s ears spring up and swivel towards the noise. Very slowly, he tilts his head up and sniffs.</p><p>Qrow can feel the hair on his neck standing up, goosebumps racing across his arms. His heart thuds in his chest and he breathes in counts of eight to slow it. “Grimm?” he whispers.</p><p>One ear snaps towards his voice, then back to the woods. “Not sure,” Clover whispers back. “Wind’s going east.”</p><p>East, which means Clover can barely smell anything, but maybe whatever’s stalking them can’t, either. Qrow glances over towards Harbinger, lying on the ground out of his reach. The fire snaps and crackles and the nearby brush rustles for the barest moment, a sign of something alive trying to keep still.</p><p>He can be on his sword and upright again within three seconds. “Ready,” he breathes.</p><p>Clover tips his chin down in the barest sign of a nod, then turns towards the brush and lets a growl tear from his throat.</p><p>Qrow dives for Harbinger, fingers closing around the hilt as he rolls back to his feet, the heat of the fire noticeable at his side. By time he’s upright again, Clover’s standing and rapidly moving past a half-shift, more wolf than human with his too-big shoulders and his arched heels and his claws, mouth near a full muzzle of teeth.</p><p>A returning growl sounds from the brush. A small black paw pushes through the brush, and Qrow feels tension slip from his body for the barest moment, until the wolf—the <em> Were </em>—it belongs to steps out and has no mask of white bone. It’s hunched low and snarling with all its might, yellow eyes tinged almost orange in the firelight. Those eyes fix on Clover for a moment, sizing him up, before they snap to Qrow. </p><p>Clover snaps his teeth so loudly that it captures the wolf’s attention again. His growl is low and dangerous, a threat if not a dare. He takes a step forward, claws curled back for a strike.</p><p>Qrow feels his palms grow sweaty, and he tightens his grip on his weapon.</p><p>The black wolf’s ears, pressed low to it’s head, suddenly flick forward. The wolf blinks, tilts its head curiously, then slowly starts to shift.</p><p>Clover stops growling. Qrow steps closer, staring in confusion until recognizable human features peek through fur.</p><p>“Clover?” asks Blake, then shakes herself out a little as the last of her black coat disappears, aside from the fuzzy ears that still sit atop her head.</p><p>Clover’s shoulders shake, a wheeze turning into full blown laughter as he changes back into a man. “You scared us half to death,” he says, raking his fingers through his bangs.</p><p>“For god’s sake,” Qrow sighs, half-relieved and half-flabbergasted.</p><p>Blake grins. Her teeth are still sharp. “I thought you were—”</p><p>“Blake!” A blonde figure bursts from the trees, fists raised, gauntlets clicking with shotgun rounds.</p><p>“Yang?!” Qrow blurts.</p><p>Yang stops mid-swing, her knuckles an inch from a shocked Clover’s jaw. “Qrow?”</p><p>“Hi, Yang,” Clover squeaks.</p><p>She blinks, then looks at him. “…Clover?!” she gapes, lowering her arm.</p><p>“You look well,” he manages.</p><p>“You look not dead,” Yang replies, eyes wide.</p><p>“Well—”</p><p>“Yang! Blake!” </p><p>“Will you all wait up?!” </p><p>A third figure in red leaps in front of Blake, a heavy scythe held up defensively, followed by a forth in white.</p><p>“Ruby?” Qrow exclaims.</p><p>Her mouth falls open. “Uncle Qrow?”</p><p>“Weiss Schnee?” Clover asks.</p><p>The girl in white startles. “Huntsman Ebi?”</p><p>“Clover?” Ruby nearly shouts.</p><p>“What are you all doing here?” Qrow demands.</p><p>“What are <em> you </em> doing here?” Yang returns. “What’s <em> Clover </em> doing here?” She pauses, then gasps indignantly. “That <em> was </em>you in the bar!”</p><p>“What the hell were you doing in a bar? You’re underage!” </p><p>“Same thing as you, apparently!” </p><p>Clover tries, “Maybe we should all settle down—”</p><p>“When were you going to tell us your dead boyfriend was alive, Qrow?” Yang yells.</p><p>“Quit calling me by my first name!” Qrow snaps, cheeks flushing bright red. “Gods, you’re a brat—” </p><p>“How long have you been back?!” Ruby shrieks, then promptly barrels into Clover’s chest. Clover lets out an <em> oof </em>and stumbles back. “We’re so happy to see you! Oh my gods, what happened? You’re a Were? Holy sh—”</p><p>“OKAY!” Blake shouts. Everyone freezes. She clears her throat. “Okay. Lets all sit down and talk <em> quietly. </em> If we get any louder, we’re going to scare off our mark.”</p><p>Qrow glances at Clover, who meets his eyes and knits his brows. Anxiety tangles hard in his chest. Images of a Gold team torn to pieces, stiff and rotting and swarmed by flies flashes through his mind.</p><p>“What mark?” he asks.</p><p>The girls go silent. After a moment, Ruby releases Clover from her bearhug. “Lets sit,” she says.</p><p>Around the fire, Qrow props his sword in the fire and offers what’s been dubbed Team RWBY the remainder of their sandwiches, since he and Clover plan to head home in the morning. He watches Yang settle a little too close to Blake and suddenly wonders just how similar their respective bar trips had really been. </p><p>As if on cue, Clover sets another log on the fire and takes a seat beside him, lacing their fingers together and bringing Qrow’s knuckles up to kiss.</p><p>“I knew it,” Ruby mutters, then, “Ouch!” as Weiss pinches her. Qrow feels his cheeks burn.</p><p>“So,” Yang says, motioning at the two of them, “Spill it.”</p><p>Clover scratches the back of his neck. “There’s not much to it,” he says. “The last hunt Qrow and I went on…well, I’m sure you all found out how it ended through some means or other. But the Were that bit me never finished me off. Few months later, and I was in Menagerie.”</p><p>“That’s how you and Blake know each other?” Ruby asks.</p><p>He nods. “Not well, but yeah. But even when I realized she was Robyn’s contact, I didn’t realize she was on a team with you two.”</p><p>Yang folds her arms and remains quiet. Blake glances at her, then turns to Qrow and says, “If I’d realized you were Yang and Ruby’s uncle, I would’ve said something in the bar.”</p><p>Qrow looks sheepish. “I thought I recognized Yang, but I got chased out before I could check.”</p><p>Yang doesn’t smile. Qrow sobers, then clears his throat and adds, “I would’ve called to say something if I’d been sure, but we didn’t want to risk exposing Blake’s position.”</p><p>“I assume she’s told you all about the plan,” Clover reasons, “Since you all know she’s a Were.”</p><p>The girls nod. Weiss pipes up, “I’m still not sure about that plan, by the way. Don’t get me wrong, I’m willing to fight, and I’d protect Blake with my life, but…” she trails off. “Even with a lot of Hunters gone for weekend hunts, there’s going to be a lot left at the Guildhall.”</p><p>“I’m not a fan of it either,” Qrow admits, then closes his eyes and sighs. “But that’s why I’m going to try to win Oz to our side before this all goes down. If he tells the Guild to stand down, they will. They won’t like it, but they will.”</p><p>Ruby hesitates, then asks, “And if he doesn’t?”</p><p>Qrow’s brows knit. He glances at Clover, feels uncertainty and dread curling in his gut…at least until Clover offers him a hopeful smile and squeezes his hand. Qrow smiles and squeezes back, then says, “Then we’ll fight.”</p><p>The girls look at each other, then nod decisively. Ruby squares her shoulders and says, “Good, because we will, too.”</p><p>Qrow snorts softly. “Figured you would,” he says, fond.</p><p>“Thank you,” Clover says. “All of you. This isn’t going to be easy, and we could use all the Hunters we can get.” He smiles, genuine, then adds, “I’m happy to see a new generation so ready to fight for others.”</p><p>Yang huffs. The camp goes still again; when she realizes everyone’s eyes are on her, she asks bluntly, “Why didn’t you find some way to let us know you were alive?”</p><p>“Yang!” Ruby scolds.</p><p>“What?” Yang demands. Her gaze snaps to Clover again, eyes hard and fierce and maybe a little hurt. “I want to know. You were alive and in Menagerie all that time, and we all thought you’d been killed. I know Ruby and I weren’t that close to you, but we were still sad. And Qrow was fucked up about you.”</p><p>“Yang,” Qrow says sharply. </p><p>“You <em> were,” </em>Yang shoots back, then blinks twice and looks away.</p><p>Qrow can’t think of a good retort, suddenly. He feels angry, half at Yang for bringing this up here, half at himself for making her feel like she needed to. The shame of the last few times he’d seen her still churns in his belly, and part of him feels like he’ll never be able to make up for his nieces seeing him that way. </p><p>Clover exhales softly, his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I wanted to,” he says, honest. “I lost my Scroll in the fight, and even if I hadn’t, I couldn’t have used it. Activity on it after I’d been marked KIA would’ve meant an immediate bounty on my head, and Hunters would’ve come after the tracker, anyway. I couldn’t use one of the Scrolls from Menagerie either, because a call or a message could’ve been traced. And I…I couldn’t control my form well enough to leave for a while. I would’ve exposed myself as a Were too quickly, or worse…” he trails off, his grip on Qrow’s hand tightening just a bit.</p><p>Yang’s shoulders lose a bit of their tension. Her brow is still pinched, but less so, now.</p><p>After a beat of silence, Clover says quietly, “I know he suffered. I knew from the minute I was conscious that he’d be grieving.” He turns to meet Qrow’s gaze then, his eyes and his half-smile tender. “I thought about him every day,” he admits.</p><p>Qrow flushes dark. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Weiss hold a hand up to her mouth, and Ruby cups her own cheeks and whispers, <em> “Aww.”  </em></p><p>He debates hiding his face in his bandana.</p><p>Yang still frowns. Blake puts a hand on her shoulder, and after a moment, she sighs. “Alright,” she says. “I can accept that.”</p><p>Clover nods at her, appreciative. Qrow clears his throat, then says, “Anyways, if we’re all done being saps, you four have some explaining to do. You’re not cleared for unchaperoned hunts yet.”</p><p>The girls all blink, then blush. Ruby pokes two fingers together sheepishly. “We were uh…tracking that Were that Blake smelled when we were last here. We couldn’t exactly report any signs that couldn’t have just been the Grimm we got assigned to kill, so…” she trails off. “What?”</p><p>Qrow realizes all the color has drained from his face. Clover looks just as pale. “You—” he starts, then feels his voice catch in his throat.</p><p>“You can’t hunt this Were,” Clover says harshly. “This one isn’t going to be as easy as the packs of Grimm first years get.”</p><p>“He’s not one of ours,” Blake says carefully, ears pressed flat in unease. “Who is he?”</p><p>“This is the guy that turned me,” Clover grits out. The hair along his arms has already grown visibly thicker. “And he killed my sister. You kids need to go home, <em> now. </em>This Were took out an entire Gold team by himself.”</p><p>Team RWBY goes pale. Ruby says, “Oh.”</p><p>“You all could’ve been killed—” Clover growls, then lets out his breath forcefully and stands up, stepping away from the fire and raking a hand through his hair.</p><p>The girls all look at Qrow. Qrow is suddenly struck by the youth in all their faces; Yang is only barely 18; Ruby is still two months out from getting her driver’s license. The idea that they might’ve run into that Were in the woods, and he and Taiyang would’ve been none the wiser, is enough to make him sick.</p><p>Still, their expressions say they’ve gotten enough sense for how much danger they were in, so he only holds a hand up placatingly and rises to follow after Clover. </p><p>“Hey,” he says softly, then steps closer and touches Clover’s elbow.</p><p>“They could’ve—” Clover snaps, then closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“Clover,” Qrow says gently, “They’re safe. Look at me.” He waits until Clover meets his eyes, brilliant green in the shadows. “We found them first. They’re fine, and we can make sure they get out of these woods.”</p><p>Clover swallows audibly, then nods and looks away. “I know.”</p><p>“He’s not going to hurt anyone else,” Qrow murmurs.</p><p>“I know,” Clover rasps, and Qrow draws him into his arms.</p><p>The girls, as it turned out, hadn’t even set up camp since missing roll call in their morning classes would’ve gotten them caught, so Qrow and Clover escort them back to Weiss’s car and see them off. </p><p>Just before she climbs into the car, Yang pauses, then turns and points at Clover. “You better treat him right,” she says, leaving no room for argument.</p><p>Clover laughs, though there’s an off note to it that tells Qrow he’s still shaken. “Trust me, I will,” he answers.</p><p>Yang nods, then pauses again. “It’s good to see you alive,” she says, then climbs into the back seat beside Blake and shuts the door.</p><p>As the car speeds off down the road, Clover admits, “Your niece is terrifying.”</p><p>Qrow laughs. “She got all her mom’s best qualities,” he agrees, then sobers. “Are you alright?”</p><p>Overhead, the near-full moon peeks out from behind dark clouds. The moonlight casts a soft white glow over them; Clover tilts his head back to look at it, his pinky finger brushing at Qrow’s until Qrow takes his hand.</p><p>“No,” he confesses.</p><p>Qrow can’t think of anything to say.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some notes:</p><p>Clover being here completely fucked the canon timeline so the RWBY girls have not yet duked it out with Adam, which is why Yang still has her arm. Furthermore I am not slowburning Bmblby lmfao. This is primarily a FG story and will remain as such so I don't plan to write out Adam's confrontations, but y'all can assume that they still eventually tear that bitch to pieces as he deserves.</p><p>The song Qrow was humming to Clover is the music box version of <a href="https://soundcloud.com/jestereir/rwby-bad-luck-charm-music-box">Bad Luck Charm</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Music for this chapter: <a href="https://youtu.be/759X3ppXt_g">Move a Mountain - Stripped </a> by Dan Lancaster and <a href="https://youtu.be/3sjJ2FR4bBU">Wolves</a> by Missio.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Clover rasps. “Gods—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, it looks sick,” Qrow chides, glancing over his shoulder to look at his back in the mirror. Across his left shoulder blade is a row of scratches, finger-width apart. “It only stings a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover, plainly mortified, covers his face and falls back to the bed. “You look like something tried to maul you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Qrow!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just kidding,” Qrow laughs. He glances in the mirror again, some strange fondness bursting in his chest. He feels a sort of triumph in the fact that, however accidentally, Clover's marked him in some way, like saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is mine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Qrow rolls his shoulder, feels his skin pull along the scratches and nearly beams, then crosses the room and climbs over Clover’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the worst,” Clover complains as Qrow pulls his hands away from his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks are a shade of red that stokes the simmering fire in Qrow’s belly, and the color spreads all the way down to Clover’s collar when Qrow grins. “You like me, though,” he challenges, leaning down to nose at his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover sighs. “Unfortunately,” he says, then lets out a yelp when Qrow pinches his side, ears springing up in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cute, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Qrow thinks helplessly, and nudges a kiss down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you at least put antiseptic on it,” Clover mutters against his lips, more a demand than a request.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cloves, I’d lasso the moon if you asked me to,” Qrow tells him dramatically, and he’s only half-joking, only knows how to deal with the burning affection in his chest with humor. Clover’s fading blush blooms all over again in response and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you </span>
  </em>
  <span>sits on the back of Qrow’s tongue, and he decides right then that he needs to tell him soon, before Robyn arrives with her army of Weres and potentially kicks off a war. He just needs to find the right time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for now, Clover’s mouth; for now, the width of his shoulders and the expanse of his chest; for now, the V of his hips and the curve of his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another half-hour of fooling around and another five spent looking for pants, Clover puts a mug of tea in Qrow’s hands and kisses his temple before sitting next to him on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow takes a sip, then wrinkles his nose. “This tastes awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You only think that because you’re used to drinking sugar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sugar with a little coffee in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good for you,” Clover points out, taking a sip from his own cup. “Robyn introduced me to it. It helps reduce anxiety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow blinks and looks at the cup. He realizes abruptly that he’s been lightly bouncing his leg since he sat down. “…Does it really help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does for me,” Clover says gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow stills his leg. After what seems like a long moment, he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a long gulp of tea, then scrunches his whole face up and turns away from his cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover chuckles. “There are other flavors,” he reminds. “You might like lavender.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Qrow says, plainly unconvinced. Another pause, then: “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover reaches over and takes his hand. They both squeeze, and settle against each other’s shoulders.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Although it’s only lit by street lamps and porch lights, Oz’s little townhouse still seems disarmingly cute, considering what Qrow is here to do. It looks different, somehow…Qrow thinks that the last few times he’s been here, he was drunk, and the place probably looks a little more charming and inviting when the walls aren’t blurring into the next house over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chews his lip. Clover’s back at his apartment, hidden away and safe at Qrow’s request. He doesn’t think Oz would hurt him, exactly, it’s just that he can’t take any chances, and he thinks this will all be easier to explain if Oz isn’t on edge from having a Werewolf in his house. They’d decided that—in the event that things went south—the less time Oz had to think all of this over, the better, so Qrow is here late, and Clover has already gone to sleep to get as much rest for their early morning as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow rubs his cheek absently, remembering the kiss Clover had left there on his way out the door, and tugs at the bandana around his neck for good luck before he knocks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a moment!” comes Oz’s voice, distant and muffled. There’s a shuffle of footsteps before the door opens, and Oz, already in a t-shirt and pajama pants and slippers for the night, blinks at him in confusion. “Qrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nerves immediately explode in Qrow’s belly. He’s going to sound like an absolutely lunatic, and he knows it. Oz had been gentler about his grieving than Taiyang tended to be, his nature too forgiving to allow for much other than a saddened sort of disappointment, but he suspects that won’t stop Oz from wondering if he’s finally snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Oz,” he says, a little sheepishly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket. “Can we talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oz blinks again, then quickly steps aside and beckons Qrow in. “Of course, of course. Come in. Hot chocolate? I just made a pot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Qrow says, mostly because he’ll start to fidget if he’s left with his hands empty. Truthfully, he feels a little nauseous. He shrugs out of his jacket and lays it across the arm of the couch, taking a seat and cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, the heavy tick of Oz’s big grandfather clock a welcome distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll be fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clover had said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ozpin trusts you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Trust, Qrow had pointed out, wasn’t exactly the problem, but maybe it would get him somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oz hands him a mug and watches his face closely as he takes a seat in his favorite armchair, a big, awful thing that Qrow’s begged him to get rid of for years. Oz pushes his glasses a little higher on his nose and sips from his mug, then says, “I was worried when I didn’t hear from you very much after your hunt. Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow cups his mug in both hands, letting the warmth seep into his palms. “That question’s more complicated than you know,” he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long pause. Oz tilts his head, then observes, “You’re not drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow flushes and scratches his jaw. “Uh...no, I’m not. I’ve been clean a little over a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oz’s face goes slack with surprise. “Oh!” he says, then blinks and quickly sputters, “Qrow, that’s wonderful! How have you been holding up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I’m great. The guy I’ve been in love with for the past three years came back to life and is currently sleeping in my bed. I’ve never been happier. We’ve been spending every waking moment together, partly because—my gods—I’m in love, and partly because he might die again. Or both of us might die, I guess. You see, Oz, my boyfriend is actually a Werewolf. Anyways— </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing alright,” Qrow says carefully, his leg bouncing a few times before he forces himself to quit. “Worst of it passed quick. I’m still a little restless, but, uh…I’m good. Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oz beams. “I can’t express how glad I am to hear that, my friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow opens his mouth, then looks away and takes a sip of hot chocolate as shame washes hot in his stomach. It’s half-embarrassment and half-guilt, and he wishes he hadn’t worried so many people over…not nothing, he knows logically that the grief and pain he’d felt was hardly nothing, but…well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clears his throat. “I wish I could say this was just a social call, but I wanted to talk to you about something. Not about—not about me, I mean. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this about work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of?” Qrow shifts his weight, then sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna think I’m nuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t,” Oz says gently. “You know full well that I trust your judgement. If something’s troubling you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>crazy, Oz,” Qrow insists. “I mean, shit, I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen living proof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oz lowers his mug, his brown eyes flitting over Qrow’s face. There’s a slight shift in his gaze, from old friend to Headmaster, and he sits up a little straighter. “Very well,” he says, “I’ll bear that in mind. What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow swallows. His leg starts bouncing again. He brings a hand up to chew at his thumbnail absentmindedly, then says, “What would you say if I told you that Weres weren’t natural killers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long pause. Qrow chews his nail a little longer before forcing himself to meet Ozpin’s eyes and finds his expression carefully guarded. Ozpin says, “I’d ask what inspired this idea, for starters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, not a flat out rejection yet. Qrow’s leg bounces a little faster. He forces himself to keep still through compromise, and instead tugs idly at his bandana. “What if I said I met one?” he asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ozpin sets his cup down on the coffee table, bracing his elbows on his chair arms and lacing his fingers together. It’s almost funny, seeing him like this when he’s in pajamas, and his already wild hair is even wilder in his downtime. “I suppose,” he says slowly, “You would have a reason for not killing it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow nods, eyes pinned anxiously on Ozpin’s expression.. “I do. And I…I swear, I know what this sounds like, but it’s true.” He chews his lip a moment, takes a breath, then says, “It’s Clover. He’s alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another long silence. The grandfather clock ticks. After a moment, Ozpin closes his eyes and exhales. “Qrow—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not crazy,” Qrow blurts. “I swear. Listen to me. Clover’s alive, and more importantly he’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>sane. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Weres don’t stay the way they are after they change. They’re just…scared and in pain, and they don’t know what’s going on. Once they get used to it, they just carry on like normal human beings—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Qrow,” Ozpin says sharply, “Do you hear yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow stops, feeling an embarrassed heat gather under his collar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oz sighs again, and when he meets Qrow’s gaze again, his eyes have gone soft with worry. “Qrow,” he murmurs, “I know you miss him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow sets down his mug and stands up so fast that the hot chocolate sloshes onto the table. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>miss him,” he insists. “He’s alive. There’s nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is he, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somewhere safe,” Qrow says, too quick. He shouldn’t have brought Clover to the apartment. He knew that as soon as he found him, bleeding and wounded in the moonlight of the Emerald Forest. The fact that they haven’t been caught isn’t just lucky, it’s nothing short of a miracle, and if they weren’t arriving on Beacon’s doorstep in less than 12 hours, he’d insist they leave the apartment as soon as he returned. “He isn’t a threat, Oz. None of them are. We don’t have to keep killing them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Qrow, you seem tired,” Oz says placatingly, reaching a hand out towards him. “Please, sit down and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please listen to me!” Qrow nearly shouts. “I’m not tired, I’m not drunk, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>crazy. He’s alive, Oz. I didn’t imagine it. I talked to him. I held him in my arms. I wasn’t drunk when you called me that day. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying </span>
  </em>
  <span>because I found him, and he…” he stops then, realizing the still-present risk in telling Oz the whole of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doubt flickers across Ozpin’s face. Hope jolts up into Qrow’s chest, and he thinks for a moment that maybe Oz believes him, that maybe things will be fine for tomorrow after all, but then Oz’s brows knit, and he pleads, “Qrow, you’re frightening me. Taiyang tells me you’ve still refused to see a therapist, and I fear that you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trails off. Qrow feels a lump rise in his throat, a heavy dread curling in his gut. He feels short of breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear I’m not crazy, Oz,” he rasps, snatching his jacket from the couch arm. “I swear. Just…trust me, when the time comes. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Qrow!” Oz cries, jumping out of his chair, but Qrow’s already fleeing out the door. He can feel his heart going a mile a minute, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this was a bad idea, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he can feel that that airy sensation of budding panic in the base of his throat, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is a bad idea.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He climbs into Clover’s car with an urgency the situation doesn’t really demand, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oz </span>
  </em>
  <span>for gods’ sakes, but his palms are still sweaty as he fumbles with the keys, his hands shaking as he wrangles them into the ignition. The seconds it takes to start the car feel too long somehow, and a quick glance in the rearview mirror tells him that Oz is very nearly to the curb as he takes off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he sees before he breaks line of sight is Oz standing in the middle of the road, hands cupped around his mouth like he’s calling after him. A moment later and Qrow’s scroll buzzes in his pocket, and he flinches so hard that the car swerves a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You could’ve handled that better, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, ignoring it for now, inhale for four, hold four, exhale four, repeat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You should’ve explained better,</span>
  </em>
  <span> inhale, hold, exhale. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You should’ve told him you would protect Clover with your life, you should’ve said you needed his help, </span>
  </em>
  <span>inhale, hold exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In between scolding himself and breathing in measures, Qrow makes it back to his place. He parks and presses his forehead against the steering wheel, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of anything but tomorrow, of anything but Clover standing up in front of an army of wolf killers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants a drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow gets out of the car and checks the dark street for any sign of headlights. A dozen half-formed escape plans flit through his mind as he waits to see if Oz followed him, a dozen more as he trembles and turns his keys and locks his door once inside. He presses his back to it and combs a hand through his hair before he rushes to the windows and peeks through the blinds, just to double check.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow exhales, lets the tension fall from his shoulders. As if on cue, his Scroll buzzes again. Qrow jumps, then resigns himself to his fate and checks it, finding two missed calls and four frantic messages: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Qrow, I’m worried about you; Please answer me; You haven’t been the same since he died and I don’t know what to do anymore, or maybe I never did; Qrow, I’m sorry. Please answer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Qrow whispers, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his scroll to his mouth. After a moment of debating, he sends, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m okay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I promise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, he chucks his Scroll onto the couch, kicks off his shoes and heads for his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clover?” he says as he enters, “I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft snore interrupts him, and Qrow immediately goes silent. After a few seconds of standing in the dark, Qrow strips down to his underwear and pulls back the covers, slowly climbing into bed in the hopes of letting Clover sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t work. Clover’s ears flick to attention, and he glances sleepily over his shoulder as Qrow settles against his back. “Hey,” he mumbles, rolling over for a drowsy kiss. “How’d it go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t believe me,” Qrow murmurs. “We’re on our own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Clover whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow strokes his cheek. His chest feels tight. He feels afraid to hope. “You promised me you wouldn’t try to play martyr if I couldn’t get him to help us,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover’s bright eyes flit over his face. Qrow wonders how pale and stricken he looks. After a moment, Clover says, “I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow thinks about Team RWBY. He thinks about Blake baring her teeth at strangers in the woods and Yang flying out to protect her. He thinks about Ruby and Weiss at their flanks, armed and ready, and the lines of his throat feel all tangled in knots. “I don’t want you to do this,” he repeats, watery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover sighs, eyes falling shut again as he wraps an arm around Qrow’s waist and pulls him close to his chest. “We’ll be okay,” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if we’re not?” Qrow rasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A kiss against his forehead. “We will be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tell him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Qrow thinks, but his tongue feels thick, a heavy pressure in the base of his throat as Clover smooths a hand over his shoulder, the motion dragging slower and slower each time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clover?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A snore answers. Qrow bites his lip until it hurts, hot tears pricking at his eyes, his breath hitching until he’s too tired to cry.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They wake at three to hold each other a little longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the kitchen, it becomes obvious that neither of them really want to eat. Clover cooks anyways, determined to provide them with as much energy for what may well be an upcoming battle as possible. The apartment fills with the smell of cheesy eggs with garlic, crisp bacon and toast, and Qrow feels sick to his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover kneels at his side after Qrow’s fork stills in his food for a third time, after his vision blurs and tears slide to the edge of his clenched jaw. He takes Qrow’s hand and squeezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Qrow chokes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise,” Clover whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow’s bottom lip trembles. Clover’s brows knit, and he reaches up to brush his thumb there before laying his head against Qrow’s thigh. Qrow bends low over his body, fingers tangled in the back of his shirt and stray tears spotting the fabric, then says, “If you still want to do your plan…I’ll protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover’s ears spring up, and Qrow immediately combs through his hair and runs his fingers over the fur. “If we have to fight,” he murmurs, “Stick close to me. I don’t want you to get hurt because a Were can’t tell you from a Hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a Hunter,” Qrow says, attempting weak humor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Clover says, looking up and hooking his fingers into the bandana around Qrow’s neck to tug him closer. “But you’re mine, and I like you in one piece.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They press their foreheads together. Qrow lays his hand on Clover’s chest, seeking out his heartbeat, and closes his eyes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The woods are eerily still. Qrow’s hair stands on end as they walk nearer and further in, the way it does when he knows he’s being watched, the way it does when he’s on a hunt and his mark has managed to skirt around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover stops and puts two fingers in his mouth, a shrill whistle resounding through the forest. A moment later, bright eyes light up the trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brothers,” Qrow whispers, feeling himself break into a cold sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The low rumble of Clover’s laugh at his side makes his heart jump, though a little more pleasantly now. “You get used to it,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Qrow asks skeptically, and Clover only laughs again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Purple eyes, disembodied in the dark, come closer, a little lower to the ground with each step until Robyn steps out of the brush, human. “What’s the word on Ozpin?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t get much further than mentioning Clover was alive,” Qrow admits. “We’re on our own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robyn sighs and scratches the back of her neck thoughtfully. “Figured as much,” she mutters. “Well…effort’s appreciated. Ebi—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll speak,” Clover confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robyn tilts her head, eyes flicking over Qrow’s face for a reaction. “You’re not throwing a fit about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow feels a lump rise in his throat and quickly swallows it back down. “I’m hoping we get lucky,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robyn huffs, amused but resigned. “Alright,” she says, then turns to face the woods and raises her voice. “Alright, ladies, gents, and variations thereupon! We don’t have a guarantee of allyship, so be prepared to go in swinging. Follow cues, do not shift until given an indication, do not bite unless a battle commences. Keep silent until dawn and we can make it through this. Move out!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow lets out his breath as Robyn shifts again and takes off towards the road, and at least two hundred wolves lumber out of the forest to follow after her, their clothes stretched tight around their fur. His body stiffens on reflex, in for four, hold four, out for, goosebumps racing along his skin. He tries to imagine what this must look like to civilians, a pack of Weres this size running through the streets, and he shudders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his pocket, his Scroll vibrates. Qrow pulls it out and worries his lip; across the screen, a message from Ruby says simply, </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re ready.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With regret stewing low in his stomach, Qrow thinks that his girls have gone and grown up while he wasn’t looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Qrow,” Clover growls, and Qrow turns just in time to watch him finish shifting. Clover steps close until Qrow has to crane his neck to look up at him, and noses at Qrow’s bangs before opening his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow blinks, then says flatly, “Are you serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover nods and presses closer still. Qrow flushes and sulks a little, tucks his Scroll away and takes Harbinger from his belt, pulling it flush to his chest before Clover scoops him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling too tall and gangly in his arms, Qrow says, embarrassed, “This is stupid, you know that? And I can see your tail wagging.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover noses at Qrow’s cheek and chuffs. Ticklish, Qrow lets out a squawk and pushes his muzzle away, and Clover lets out a wheezing laugh before he suddenly takes off after the others. The landscape rushes by, the road and the trees along the side of the road, houses and apartments and stores that blend into each other at the edges as they pass. Qrow glances up at the rapidly approaching columns of Beacon Guildhall, then squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face into Clover’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of claws and padded feet on pavement fade to near nothing on the Guildhall’s soft lawn. Wolves gather together and shift into their human forms to wait out the sunrise and the notice of the Hunters slumbering inside. Clover sets Qrow down gingerly, and Qrow’s barely hooked Harbinger back into its place at his waist before Clover puts an arm around his shoulders and headbutts him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Qrow objects quietly, then goes still as Clover nuzzles into his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the bright gazes of other Weres pinned on them, and he flushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a tug at his sleeve as Clover takes a step back to shift. Qrow turns and finds Team RWBY waiting with both determined eyes and teasing smiles just visible in the budding morning light. Ruby signs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What did Professor Ozpin say?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow grimaces. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t believe me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he signs back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Might have to fight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls’ smiles fall from their faces. Yang and Blake glance at each other—they’re holding hands, Qrow notes—and Qrow quickly signs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>It will be ok.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover puts a hand at the small of Qrow’s back, human now, and nods at the girls. Ruby offers him a cheerful wave and Yang tips her chin up in greeting, and— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are these the uncles?!” a redhead says too loudly as she half-tackles Ruby, and the whole of Team RWBY hisses, “Nora!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Nora whispers, covering her mouth. Two boys, one blond and one with dark hair, and a second girl with even redder hair skid to a stop and brace their hands on their knees to catch their breaths, having apparently run after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake lets go of Yang’s hand and signs sheepishly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>More friends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover laughs softly, cheeks rosy and eyes alight at </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncles, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his hand sliding along Qrow’s waist to pull him closer. Qrow sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, face burning even as he leans into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soft sound of shuffling Weres suddenly goes silent. Both Clover and Blake’s ears flick up and towards the front of the crowd, and the rest of the group follows their gaze. Robyn stands up in front, holds a finger to her mouth. “It’s time,” she calls, and as the sky lightens enough that the eerie luminance of wolf eyes falls to pleasant embers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better go,” Clover murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If things go south,” Qrow says, taking his hand and pointing sternly at the students, “You kids make sure you get out of here. Everyone here’s going to be out for blood, even your peers and mentors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The students glance around at each other. Yang locks eyes with Blake, then says firmly, “We’re not going anywhere, Uncle Qrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We came here to help,” Ruby says, on top of various noises of agreement and affirmation, “so we’ll fight too, if we have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow feels a sharp ache in his chest. Both of them look too much like Summer here in this moment, both determined and desperate to protect. His throat tightens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful,” Clover tells them, tugging Qrow along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Qrow adds, raspy, then follows Clover to the front lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robyn glances up from speaking quietly with Fiona, May, and Joanna as they approach, and motions her team away. “They’re going to notice us any minute now,” she says. “You boys ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As ready as we’re going to get,” Clover replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “Good. Five o’clock Shadow, I want you up here and visible next to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow snorts. “Where else would I be?” he asks. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Clover glance over at him, an intense fondness splayed openly across his features. Qrow’s heart flutters. He’s afraid to hope for this still, afraid that this will all go horribly wrong or that they’ll be no coming back from it in the worst of ways, but for the briefest moment, with Clover’s hand in his and that smile fixed on him, he feels like he could fight the entire Guild by himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright lovebirds,” Robyn says, her ears flicking up as the first cry of alarm sounds from within the Guildhall, “Positions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover brings Qrow’s hand up to kiss his knuckles; Qrow, heart lurching, pulls him closer and kisses his mouth. Clover noses at him, presses their foreheads together, then steps away and folds his hands neatly behind his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow draws his sword just as the Hunters begin walking out onto the lawn, armed and ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Identify yourself!” one of them shouts—Glynda, Qrow realizes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover waits until more have filed out, glances towards Robyn for a cue. She nods sharply. Qrow takes a deep breath, fingers flexing on Harbinger’s hilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Clover Ebi,” Clover begins, voice projecting over the courtyard. “I am a Hunter from the Atlas Guild, ranked Platinum IV. I have worked alongside Huntsman Qrow Branwen for three years to defend your civilians, your city, and surrounding towns from Grimm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Many of the Hunters pause, recognition flitting over more than a few faces. In the crowd, Qrow recognizes Port, Oobleck, and a few others, a mass of students and pro Hunters gathering behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was bitten by a Were over a year ago,” Clover continues, then motions at himself. “As you can see, I'm still sane. I am still me. And I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a glint of metal in the crowd. Qrow’s heart leaps up in his throat and he moves before he can even really process it, shoves against Clover’s side and rolls Harbinger over his wrist. The gunshot rings in his ears, echoes across the courtyard, and a bullet, silver and gleaming and deadly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pings! </span>
  </em>
  <span>off Harbinger’s blade and lodges in the dirt nearby. Snarls rip through the crowd of wolves at his back, and some cacophony of either fear or indignation rolls through the Hunters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is precisely what Qrow had feared from the moment he’d learned of this plan’s existence, and somehow, he’s never felt stronger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen to him!” he shouts, furious, sword held out in both hands like both a warning and a dare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover puts a hand on his shoulder, stepping close again and squeezing. He looks a little pale and startled, but his eyes are bright with pride and affection. “Thank you,” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the tension falls from Qrow’s body…not a lot, but some. “I like you in one piece,” he murmurs back, and Clover’s smile widens before the Hunters steal his attention by going silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd parts slowly, reluctant to take their eyes from the Weres. The clack of Ozpin’s cane against the walkway seems to echo, and he stops in front of the Hunters, one arm folded politely behind his back and his features schooled neutral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow inhales. Oz meets his eyes, then declares, “Let them speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few objections go up from behind him, but Oz silences them with a raised hand. Qrow lets out his breath, unable to help the grin that spreads across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover and Oz offer each other a nod of respect. When it’s clear there’ll be no further interruptions, Clover continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was bitten and dragged off by a serial biter while investigating Grimm activity outside of Higanbana,” he says. “I survived. And while I struggled with my wolf form at first, I eventually gained control of it. I kept my sense of self. And so have many other Weres, including multiple students that you have gladly welcomed among your ranks and trained to hunt Grimm.” Here, he pauses, then motions towards the Weres. Multiple students step forward, including Blake and a timid looking girl with brown hair. Disbelief and more recognition flit over the Hunters’ expressions. “Everyone that you see here is a Were, aside from a few of your own brave students who chose to stand with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curious murmurs continue. A few Hunters slowly lower their weapons. Hope rises in Qrow’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are still people!” Clover goes on, voice tinged with passion now. “We are still your brothers and sisters, your parents and cousins, your friends and your lovers. We fight and kill Grimm just as you do, and we are not your enemies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps back then, and Robyn takes his place. “My name is Robyn Hill, and I am the leader of our forces,” she announces. “We have been living in our own communities for years, evading death at your hands and healing those of us who were turned until we became ourselves again. We have children who are born with wolf blood who never experience the terror and frenzy of the first transformation that you murder us to stop. We are alive and breathing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>innocent,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and we don't deserve to be killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here, she waits as Hunter chatter grows loud again. Ozpin shows little surprise beyond raised brows and widened eyes. After a moment, Robyn declares, voice hard and demanding, “We don’t want a war with the Hunter Guilds. We don’t want bloodshed, but we demand change. Our condition is this: You will not keep killing us. You will let us take bite victims into our homes for healing, and in turn we will fight the Grimm alongside you. But we will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>keep suffering under your weapons, and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>fight for our lives and our freedom if we must.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The murmuring rises in volume a second time. For a moment, the world seems pulled taut, like tension on a string. For a moment, Qrow swears he can only hear his own heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ozpin raises his hand again. The courtyard stills. Qrow doesn’t dare to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Hill,” Ozpin says gravely. “Mr. Ebi. If you would feel safe enough to enter my office, on my word that your comrades will remain safe in your absence, I believe we have much to discuss.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Get ready.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>WARNING:</b> Graphic depictions of violence in this chapter near the end.</p><p>Music for this chapter: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLVtqVxZgYI">Run Londinium</a> by Daniel Pemberton and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kU0SJTmdFp4">Honeybee</a> by The Head and the Heart</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m sure you’re well aware of the difficulties this will pose for your students,” Ozpin says gravely, elbows propped on his desk and his fingers laced together at his mouth.</p><p>Robyn, seated across from him with Clover at her side, nods firmly. “They were aware of the challenges they’d face when they volunteered.”</p><p>Ozpin smiles. “Yes, well…I must say, I’m rather impressed with the skills of whoever forged their documents. I didn’t suspect a thing.”</p><p>Robyn smiles too. “Thank you.”</p><p>“On that note,” Ozpin says, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of hot chocolate, “I don’t tolerate discrimination of any kind in my school. However, that doesn’t mean I can promise a safe environment with absolute certainty. My sympathies towards your cause may not be shared by every Hunter that attends this Guild. I will enforce what I can and reprimand as I'm able, but…this will not be a simple adjustment. Many Hunters have…lost their partners to both Weres and Grimm. Friends and family as well. This won’t be easy for them to accept.” He sighs and rubs his temples. “We have quite a lot of work to do. Hopefully there will be little need for replacements. Further, should the city council decide that I’m not fit to head this Guildhall because of this decision…Were students should bear in mind that they may need to leave very suddenly.”</p><p>“We’ve been training for this a long time,” Robyn informs him, confident. “We prepared for all possible outcomes.”</p><p>Ozpin nods. “Good. I will do my best to ensure it’s not a necessity. I won’t press you for the location of your village, but I would advise you not travel too far from the area for the time being. The council will wish to meet with you.”</p><p>“Understood.”</p><p>“I’ll be drafting a letter to the other Headmasters shortly,” Ozpin goes on, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. “I imagine the news won’t take long to travel by word of mouth. If I might be truthful, I’m not confident about the Haven Guild’s response. For Shade, I’m uncertain. Atlas’s Headmaster is…” he pauses, considering, “bullheaded, but not unkind or unreasonable.”</p><p>Qrow, leaning against the wall, out of the way but listening, snorts.</p><p>Oz shoots him a look, then turns to Clover. “Regardless,” he says gently, “Should Atlas decide not to accept the Weres into their ranks, I would consider it an honor to count you among our own.” His eyes turn a bit mischievous. “Qrow speaks very highly of you.”</p><p>“Oz,” Qrow complains.</p><p>Clover flushes a bit, though his grin is wide and unabashed. “I might take you up on that,” he says, glancing back at Qrow.</p><p>The room feels too warm suddenly. Qrow is abruptly jolted back to that night in Higanbana, with the dingy room and the old creaky mattress, love on his mind and the promise of a permanent partner hanging in the air.</p><p>The discussion with Oz goes on for a long time; he and Robin talk about accommodations for the students, the way Weres would be registered and assigned to teams within the Guild, the inclusion of already-formed Were teams to handle bite victims, and so on.</p><p>“If you’ll excuse me for the time being,” Ozpin says after a while, rising from his chair. “I need to prepare a speech.”</p><p>Robyn nods and stands. “Surprised to say this to a Hunter,” she admits, “but working with you hasn’t been half-bad so far.”</p><p>Ozpin blinks, then chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it,” he replies, a grin at the edge of his mouth. “You displayed a tremendous amount of leadership skills today, Ms. Hill. You should be proud.”</p><p>“I am,” Robyn says. “Of everyone.”</p><p>They shake hands. Oz extends a handshake to Clover too, but it lasts a little longer. Oz says cheerfully, “Mr. Ebi, it’s very good to see you alive.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Clover replies, though there’s a note of questioning in it.</p><p>“I do hope you’ll treat Qrow well,” Oz goes on. “He’s very dear to me.”</p><p>Clover laughs, good natured. “I see. Sorry, Headmaster, but I think his niece beat you to that threat already.”</p><p>“No threats, my friend,” Ozpin replies, still smiling. He puts his other hand at Clover’s arm, shakes his hand once more. “Only warnings.”</p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>“Oz, leave him alone,” Qrow sighs, tapping his foot. “You’re embarrassing me.”</p><p>“I can’t say I know what you mean,” Oz says. Qrow rolls his eyes, moves to follow Robyn and Clover towards the door, but Oz suddenly clears his throat and says hesitantly, “Qrow, if I might keep you a minute longer…” </p><p>Qrow pauses. When Clover stops to wait for him, Qrow motions him on. “I’ll catch up,” he says. Clover nods and shuts the door behind him, and then the office is dead silent.</p><p>There’s a slow-passing moment where Oz can’t seem to meet his eyes. The grandfather clock ticks impatiently. Then: “I owe you an apology.”</p><p>Qrow sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Oz—”</p><p>“Please let me finish,” Oz interrupts, and in the absence of strangers he seems upset suddenly, between the knitted brows and the deep-set frown, the taut line of his shoulders and the way he lifts his chin even with his eyes still downcast. “I should have believed you. You have never lied to me, and your judgement has always been fair and unbiased. I should know better than most that an unlikely survival is not an impossible one, and for you to come to me with something so close to your heart—”</p><p>He cuts off abruptly as Qrow crosses the room and envelops him in a tight embrace, frame tense for a split second before he relaxes and returns it.</p><p>“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Qrow murmurs.</p><p>“...I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Oz says softly.</p><p>“It was a pretty wild story, to be fair.”</p><p>“Perhaps, but it was you.” A sigh, a tighter squeeze. “I’m glad to see you well, Qrow.”</p><p>Qrow leans back to look at him. He is <em> exuberantly </em>happy. “Thank you, Oz.”</p><p>His smile must be contagious; Oz grins, then asks, “I expect I’ll have to duel Taiyang for the rights to being best man?”</p><p>“Give me a break,” Qrow exclaims, flushed, and Oz laughs.</p><p>In the hall, Clover waits for him alone, face lighting up as Qrow leaves the office. “Everything alright?”</p><p>Qrow nods, immediately stepping close to take his hand and kiss him. Clover makes a little pleased noise, and when Qrow withdraws, he’s pleased to see Clover’s ears have sprung up from beneath his hair. Clover won’t have to hide that now, he realizes. “Oz just wanted to apologize for last night, is all.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Clover says, then snorts. “Everyone who loves you is terrifying, you know that?”</p><p>“Oh, for sure,” Qrow agrees. “One of them has huge teeth and everything.”</p><p>Clover scoffs and bumps his hip against Qrow’s side. Then, from outdoors, a chorus of howls breaks out.</p><p>“Robyn went ahead to tell the others,” Clover laughs. “By the way, apparently there’s a victory party set up in the woods. She told me to extend an invite.”</p><p>“They set up a victory party before knowing if this was going to be a bloodbath?” Qrow asks skeptically.</p><p>“Robyn’s…optimistic,” Clover chuckles. He squeezes Qrow’s hand, peers out Beacon’s grand windows at the courtyard. “It’s a new world out there…things are going to be hard even with this win. They deserve a celebration.”</p><p>Qrow follows his gaze. It all seems too good to be true: Clover at his side again, the first phase of the revolution successful, the world changing into something better, something more free. His chest feels fit to burst, the airy glee thrumming through him near enough to make his head float from his shoulders.</p><p>Clover whispers, “We did it.”</p><p>“Best team in Remnant,” Qrow agrees, and bursts into laughter when Clover suddenly grabs him by the waist, spins him, and kisses him.</p>
<hr/><p>The party is wild, in a good way.</p><p>It’s set a bit deeper in the woods than their initial meeting place; the Weres get a bonfire going and roast food brought from home on sticks, and someone has brought small portable speakers that blast music into the evening sky, occasionally drowned out by howls.</p><p>There’s booze, but Qrow is so busy dancing with Clover that he barely thinks of it. It’s nice to see him cut loose like this, unconcerned with his form and lacking any sign of professionalism or poise. Qrow likes the growl in his laugh and the sharpness of his smile, the vibrant green of his eyes and the way his tail can’t seem to stop wagging.</p><p>Qrow watches the way the fire casts a warm glow over his features as he lifts Clover’s hand and twirls him, and he thinks—not for the first time, not for the last—that he’s never been more in love.</p><p>“You seem like you’re having fun,” Yang says to him when they part for a drink. Clover’s off talking to a group of Weres that Qrow’s unfamiliar with, including an incredibly large, dark haired man with a boisterous laugh and a woman who looks suspiciously like Blake.</p><p>“So do you,” Qrow tells her, leaning back against a tree and motioning towards her team,where her friends—Team JNPR, Qrow had learned—are hopelessly trying to teach the remainder of Team RWBY how to dance. Yang follows his gaze, and as if on cue, Blake looks up, then flushes and looks away again, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.</p><p>“Yeah…” Yang says with amusement, sticking her hands in her pockets and leaning against the trunk beside him. “Y’know at school, she’d wear this big bow to press her ears down in case she got startled or something? I thought the whole time that it didn’t fit the rest of her style, and I was right.”</p><p>Qrow snorts. “So what’s the deal with you two, huh?”</p><p>“Aw, I dunno,” Yang says, sighing. “We’ve been through a lot together already. Feels like we’re pretty much dating, but we haven’t talked about it.”</p><p>Qrow feels a grin creeping over the edge of his mouth. He thinks about hunting trips with Clover and shared beds and thieving hands in his chip bags, about Clover knowing where his spare key is and the easy way they’d always fit into each other’s space. “I feel that,” he says agreeably, then sips his water.</p><p>Yang glances at him curiously. “How about you and Clover?” she asks.</p><p>“How many tents did you see at our campsite?”</p><p>“I don’t want to think about how many tents were at your campsite.”</p><p>Qrow laughs, his eyes settling on Clover across the fire. He watches him laugh at something that tall man says. Something low and tender settles comfortably behind his ribs. “You ever been so happy, you feel like you could just burst?” he asks softly.</p><p>“Gross,” Yang teases, snorts a laugh when he elbows her. “Kidding. And uh…” she pauses, glancing off towards Blake again. “Yeah, I get that.” Another pause, and a smile; Qrow blinks, and wonders when the last time Yang ever looked at him like that. A year, maybe? Before Oniyuri, before the alcohol, for certain. “I’m happy for you, old man.”</p><p>“I’m not that old,” Qrow objects, sappy thoughts ruined.</p><p>“You kidding me?” Yang reaches up to tug at his bangs. “You’re going gray, grandpa.”</p><p>Qrow makes a swipe for her, but Yang ducks under his arm and narrowly misses what would’ve been a devastating noogie. “Listen here, Firecracker—” Qrow starts, only to be interrupted by an arm snaking around his waist.</p><p>“Am I interrupting family roughhousing?” Clover asks at his neck, chuckling when Qrow puts a hand over his face.</p><p>“Actually,” Yang says matter of factly, “I think you arrived just in time. I would’ve won, but you get a point for stopping my uncle from embarrassing himself. Congratulations.”</p><p>“Well, well,” Qrow retorts, “Look who went to Beacon for a few months and thinks she’s hot shit.”</p><p>“Dad says I get my attitude from your side of the family.”</p><p>“Oh, does he—”</p><p>“And besides,” Yang goes on, then looks pointedly at Clover and folding her arms. “You can’t interrupt family roughhousing if you count. So.”</p><p>Qrow feels Clover’s hold go a little slack. He glances back for a peek at Clover’s expression, and when he only finds surprise in his features, his chest warms all over again.</p><p>Yang clears her throat. “Anyway, I just came over here to tell you we’re heading out in a few minutes. Apparently Dad’s gotten wind of everything and wants us home to tell him about it. He’s probably going to chew you out for not telling him we were going to partake in the Guild ambush, by the way.”</p><p>“Great,” Qrow mutters. </p><p>Yang throws finger guns at him and turns away, but stops and glances back when Qrow says, “Hey, Firecracker.”</p><p>Qrow hesitates, then says, “You kids did good today. And uh…word of advice? Go get her, tiger.”</p><p>Yang flushes a little pink, then nods sharply and spins on her heel to return to her team.</p><p>At his back, Clover’s still silent. Qrow nudges him gently and turns in his arms to face him, then asks, “Hey, you okay there, lucky charm?”</p><p>Clover swallows thickly, then nods and looks up with a little shine in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, a little raspy. “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles then, gaze soft and brows knitted in tender fondness, and tugs at Qrow’s arms. “Come dance with me again.”</p><p>Qrow searches his face for a lie, but only finds something so sweet and heavy that he’s afraid to label it.</p><p>He takes Clover’s hand, wraps an arm around his back, and suddenly dips him low. Clover yelps in delighted surprise and only goes quiet when Qrow kisses him, free hand cupping Qrow’s jaw and threading into the fringes of his hair.</p><p>They get a few wolf-whistles for that (ha!), and keep dancing for hours more.</p>
<hr/><p>“You realize,” Qrow says as they mosey back towards the car, hand in hand, “that you’re going to have to get a driver’s license again. I mean, hell. What’s the process like for being declared undead?”</p><p>Clover groans. “Don’t make me sound like a zombie. I don’t know. Sounds like hell, whatever it is.”</p><p>Qrow chuckles, then yawns. “Gods, I’m tired.” He glances up at the moon, which is slowly making its way back towards the horizon, then pulls out his scroll briefly to check the time. “Brothers. We’ve been up almost 24 hours.”</p><p>Clover makes a noise of agreement. “It was a big day…we got a lot done.”</p><p>“And I never want to do it again,” Qrow mutters. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, y’know that?”</p><p>Clover laughs, then bumps his hip against Qrow’s. “Aw, I knew you were watching my back.”</p><p>“Is that why you looked pale as a sheet?”</p><p>“Maybe I was startled by how hot you looked deflecting bullets.”</p><p>“That didn’t look like the face you make when I do something hot.” Qrow scoffs.</p><p>Clover grins, canines sharp, and lengthens his stride to cross in front of Qrow and walk backwards, tugging him towards the car. “Oh yeah? What face do I usually make?”</p><p>“Mmm…” Qrow hums, following after him and crowding him against the car door. “Give me a minute.”</p><p>Clover laughs softly, hands sliding along Qrow’s arms, eager and inviting. Qrow leans in to brush their noses together, presses closer for a kiss, but Clover suddenly turns away from his mouth just slightly, nostrils flaring.</p><p>Qrow pauses, frowning. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Under his hands, he feels Clover tense. Nails-turned-claws prick at Qrow’s skin, and Clover swallows quietly, his bright eyes slowly drifting towards the ground, like he’s afraid to look.</p><p>Qrow follows his gaze and freezes. There in the dirt, right beside their own boots and outlined by just enough moonlight for him to see, are a single set of pawprints.</p><p>Qrow feels his mouth go dry, feels his muscles lock up until a faint pain in his chest reminds him to breathe. He lets out a half-choked breath, then quickly fumbles in his pockets for his Scroll.</p><p>“Pick up,” he pleads out loud. “Pick up, pick up—”</p><p><em> “Uncle Qrow?” </em> comes Ruby’s groggy voice. <em> “It’s four in the morning.” </em></p><p>Relief hits Qrow like a truck. He shuts his eyes and exhales, then demands, “Is Yang with you?”</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah?” </em>
</p><p>“What about Blake and Weiss?”</p><p>
  <em> “We’re all asleep, Uncle Qrow…are you okay?”  </em>
</p><p>Is he okay? No, not really. The Were that tried to take Clover from him has been prowling around their car and <em> no, </em> he’s not okay, but Ruby and Yang are safe at the Guildhall, and so are their friends, so that counts for something, at least. “I…” he starts, then realizes his voice is shaking and tries again. “I’m fine, kiddo. Just uh…just checking on you.”</p><p>Ruby sounds a little more awake now. <em> “Are you sure?”  </em></p><p>“I’m sure,” he lies. “Sorry I woke you up. Get some sleep, okay?”</p><p>
  <em> “Are you doing that thing where you say you’re fine so I don’t get worried?” </em>
</p><p><em> Busted, </em>Qrow thinks, huffing a laugh despite himself, and says, “Goodnight, Ruby.”</p><p><em> “I’m calling you back when I’m awake.” </em> A yawn. <em> “Love you.” </em></p><p>Qrow’s throat tightens. “Love you too, pipsqueak.”</p><p>He hangs up, stares at the screen for a while until Ruby’s caller ID vanishes, then puts his scroll back in his pocket. Clover’s still gripping his arm, claws digging in a little harder now. His glowing eyes are still fixed on the footprints, and Qrow feels him trembling, feels his body start to bulk. Prickling stubble buds along his jaw, brows growing thicker, hair turning shaggy— </p><p>“Clover,” Qrow says quickly. “Look at me.”</p><p>A pause, and Clover pries his eyes away from the tracks. He squeezes his eyes shut, takes deep breaths on beat, then meets Qrow’s gaze again. “He knows we’re hunting him,” he says.</p><p>“I know,” Qrow murmurs. He reaches up to cup Clover’s cheek, and Clover leans into the touch and puts his hand on top of Qrow’s, fingers sliding down to his pulse. “We can take him. You and me.”</p><p>“If he’s trying to turn new Weres,” Clover rasps, “he’ll go for you this time.”</p><p>“He can if he wants. It’s not going to matter.”</p><p>Clover shakes his head, turning his mouth into Qrow’s palm. “I can’t be without you again,” he rasps. “Not like that.”</p><p>Qrow’s heart aches. He thinks about stumbling back to Higanbana in the rain and feels remnants of that deep void of grief still swimming in his heart, half-raw. He pulls Clover closer, arm around his back and fingers running through his hair. “You won’t be,” he promises.</p><p>“Turning hurts,” Clover mumbles, face buried in Qrow’s shoulder. “It hurts so much, I don’t want you to—”</p><p>“I’m not gonna turn,” Qrow says firmly. “He is <em> not </em>going to hurt us again, Clover. We are not going to let him separate us. We’re gonna kill him, and we’re gonna go home and sleep for at least fifteen hours, and then I’m going to try to make blueberry pancakes for you and fuck it up so bad, you’ll never let me cook again. Okay?”</p><p>There’s a huff against his neck, and then he catches sight of Clover’s tail swishing back and forth. “Your pancakes aren’t that awful,” he says softly.</p><p>“My pancakes suck,” Qrow says flatly, satisfied when Clover laughs, even if it comes out watery. He draws back enough to press a kiss to his temple and tug at the cross hanging from Clover’s neck, then says, “We’ll be alright. You and me.”</p><p>“Best team in Remnant,” Clover sighs, reaching up to tug at Qrow’s bandana in return.</p><p>“Damn right,” Qrow agrees, then kisses him and takes Harbinger from his belt.</p>
<hr/><p>Clover walks half-shifted, enough to be ready for violence but not enough to hinder his speech. It should be more unnerving than it is, Qrow thinks, to see a man shaped that way, but he supposes he’s too used to Clover’s presence that it doesn’t make much difference.</p><p>He reaches up and brushes his fingers over marks in a tree, far west of where the celebration had been. The marks are fresh, the wood still bleeding pricks of sticky sap, and too high up to be anything but purposeful. Their Were is leading them on, that’s for certain, but Qrow can’t quite figure out why he would want to be found. The area isn’t deep enough into the woods to be considered Grimm territory, and Hunters regularly patrolled the area. An ambush wouldn’t work here like it did in Oniyuri.</p><p>“How fresh?” he asks aloud, since neither party seems interested in running.</p><p>Clover’s nostrils flare, eyes pinned to the trees and his ears forward and alert. “Recent,” he rumbles. “An hour, at most.”</p><p>“He’s waiting for us,” Qrow mutters, shifting Harbinger’s hilt in his hand.</p><p>A low growl sounds from Clover’s throat. “I know.”</p><p>“You think he wants packmates that bad? He has to know you’re aware of yourself by now.”</p><p>“But you’d be fresh,” Clover says, then snaps his jaw so sharply that the clack of his teeth almost echoes. “I called for you when I changed. That’d be enough to convince him that I’d follow if you were taken.”</p><p>The admission makes regret swim in Qrow’s gut. He grips Harbinger until his knuckles turn white, wondering if this guy’s really thinking that way or if he just can’t stand the thought of a victim getting away. “You think he’s still close?” he asks.</p><p>Clover’s mouth curls. “I think if he’s ballsy enough to follow our scents to the car, then he’s here somewhere.”</p><p>Qrow hums, tugs at his bandana. “If we go much further, I won’t be able to see.”</p><p>Clover glances at him. “You want to turn back?”</p><p>“No,” Qrow muses, “but somebody like this might be inclined to answer an invitation.”</p><p>“He’d lose the element of surprise.”</p><p>“He killed four Gold on his own. I’m thinking he won’t think he needs it. Hell, I’m thinking he likes to show off.”</p><p>Clover considers that, then tilts his head back and howls. It sends a shiver down Qrow’s spine, a long note that’s somehow chilling and lovely and powerful all at once, and the sound carries through the trees for miles. Clover pauses to listen, then glances over and catches Qrow staring. He flushes. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Qrow says, shaking his head. He’ll save that for later, he thinks, when they’re safe and rested and he can tell Clover his voice is beautiful. “Hear anything?”</p><p>A pause, a deepset frown. “No.”</p><p>“Keep going.”</p><p>Clover listens a moment longer before howling again, and once more for good measure. Afterwards, there’s a long pause, and the forest is eerily still, like anything nocturnal has been startled silent, like the forest is holding its breath.</p><p>Then, not too far to the northwest: a returned howl, the note disjointed, high pitched, manic.</p><p>They both freeze. Qrow asks, “What are the odds that that’s one of Robyn’s?”</p><p>“They were all leaving as we did,” Clover says, voice tight. “Some of them are from far villages. No way they stuck around longer than they had to.”</p><p>Qrow exhales. Adrenaline thrums through his veins, all his senses on fire and hyperaware. He can smell the pine trees and pollen, feels the cool night air slide across his skin and leave goosebumps behind, his eyes rapidly taking in the hazy details of a moonlit landscape.</p><p>He takes Clover’s hand, and the two of them break into a run. Qrow keeps a tight grip on his lover, on his sword, heartbeat kicking up in his chest, and— </p><p>They skid to a stop. Clover’s hand tightens on his, claws pricking against Qrow’s knuckles. There, in a patch of land where the trees thin out just enough to set a stage, stands a lanky, dark brown wolf.</p><p>The sight of him makes Qrow’s breath catch, and then the anger rushes in. He lets go of Clover’s hand to grip Harbinger’s hilt, blade held out and ready. “Identify yourself,” he snaps.</p><p>The wolf lets out a series of chuffs that turns to a cackling sort of laugh as he shifts. Qrow’s heart thuds in his chest; he remembers the braid, those sickly yellow eyes, that too wide grin that qualifies as a dare and a threat all at once. “I suppose we never were properly introduced,” he says, then clicks his heels together and takes a low, dramatic bow. “Tyrian Callows, at your service.”</p><p>At his side, Clover is stock-still and silent, but Qrow doesn’t dare take his eyes off the enemy.</p><p>“And if it isn’t Qrow Branwen,” Tyrian goes on. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you lately. The Hunter who stood up for the wolves.” He smiles, all teeth. “I remember you.”</p><p>Qrow clenches his jaw. Clover growls softly, low in his throat.</p><p>Those yellow eyes, bright in the dark, flit to Clover then. The smile widens. “Ah, there you are, pet. I haven’t seen you since that young lady dragged you off.”</p><p>The growling abruptly stops. Qrow chances a look and finds that all the aggression has fallen from Clover’s face, replaced with shock and dawning horror. Clover whispers, “...What?”</p><p>Tyrian pretends to gasp and daintily holds a hand to his mouth. “You don’t remember?” he asks, and then his voice turns almost tender. “Why, I’ve been trying to take you back to my queen ever since I turned you.”</p><p><em> Queen. </em> Qrow glances at Clover to see if he knows what that means, but Clover’s stricken expression clearly gives away that he has no memory of this. Qrow thinks about this Were stalking Clover while he was still changing and vulnerable, and rage immediately swims in his vision. It takes everything in him not to lunge forward, and he makes up for it by clicking Harbinger into scythe mode, just for the sake of doing <em> something. </em> “What queen?” he demands.</p><p>Tyrian’s face lights up. Qrow can’t tell if the guy’s a clown or if he’s just that obsessed. “My beautiful goddess, Salem!” he cries, spreading his arms to the sky, and okay, <em> that </em>obsessed. “Only the most beautiful, cunning, powerful Were the Guilds have ever known! I was blessed enough for her to take me between her own teeth, and I have devoted myself to expanding her pack ever since.”</p><p>“What does she want with Clover?”</p><p>“Clover?” Tyrian tilts his head, gaze sliding curiously between them before the smile returns. “Oh! Nothing in particular. You see, he’s one of the few who survived me, that’s all. Isn’t that right, my little good luck charm?”</p><p>Clover lets out a sharp, shaky little breath, a faint, anguished noise slipping. Out of the corner of his eye, Qrow watches Clover’s shape swelling, and he quickly steps in front of his partner, swinging Harbinger’s shotgun barrel up and bracing the snath against his arm. “Say that again,” he says quietly, dangerous.</p><p>“Does that bother you?” Tyrian asks, wicked and clearly pleased by it. “I <em> do </em>remember you. You were quite devastated when I took him, weren’t you? I suppose it’s no wonder that he went crawling back to you eventually, but surely you realize that despite your little revolution, the human world will never offer him what Weres can, and Salem can offer him far more than the Weres’ little Robin Hood.” His gaze slides to Clover again, and he pouts. “You really don’t remember our little adventures?”</p><p>Clover reaches a shaking, clawed hand up before suddenly stopping himself, like he’d been reaching for Qrow’s necklace. “What the hell are you talking about?” </p><p>“It was always an exciting encounter, truly!” Tyrian says gleefully. “You have a strong bite, and you fought brilliantly for being…well, a puppy. I’m a little hurt that you don’t recall us tearing into each other, you know. And then to just let that woman take you home instead? You wound me.”</p><p><em> I woke up covered in a lot of blood pretty often, </em>Clover had told him before. Qrow’s heart leaps up in his throat. His knuckles turn white around Harbinger’s grip. </p><p>“Well, it doesn’t matter in the long run,” Tyrian goes on, sighing and waving his hand dismissively. “You’ve gone and grown up into a big wolf now, so I can just ask.” With a flourish, he bows again and offers his hand. “At my queen’s behest, will you come home?”</p><p>Clover lets out a snarl and shifts, body trembling with fury, but he waits still, at least until Qrow draws Harbinger’s blade back and takes the snath in both hands. </p><p>“He’s already home,” he snaps, and they both lunge.</p><p>Tyrian shifts explosively fast and leaps back, delight still on his face like he’d been hoping they’d say no. Qrow lets Harbinger’s snath slide in his hand to extend his reach and arcs up. Tyrian leans back and dodges the blade by a hairsbreadth, but Clover immediately bites into his forearm, and the two go tumbling. </p><p>For a moment, they’re just a blur of movement in the dark. Clover sinks his teeth into the scruff of Tyrian’s neck and swings himself halfway onto Tyrian’s back before Tyrian reaches up, digs claws into his fur, and tosses him to the ground. </p><p>Opportunistic and waiting with his sword, Qrow cuts a line from Tyrian’s shoulder to his hip. Tyrian steps back and snarls when the blade grazes him and draws blood and smoke, and narrowly misses Qrow’s next upward arc. </p><p>Qrow steps back when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, heart pounding as Clover suddenly bashes his shoulder into Tyrian’s side and sends him crashing to the ground. He sees the attack coming, shouts, “Clover!” just as Clover dives for him and gets a slash down his face for his efforts. Clover yelps and reels back; Qrow clicks Harbinger into a scythe, leaps and turns in a swift circle over his side, bringing the blade down with all his weight.</p><p>Tyrian dives away. Harbinger sinks into the dirt. Qrow’s eyes widen as Tyrian rolls to his feet and lunges, paws kicking up soil, maw open wide. </p><p>He pulls the trigger. His shotgun goes off and Tyrian flinches back as pellets pierce his shoulder, and then Clover is on him again in a blur of teeth and splattered blood.</p><p>Qrow pulls Harbinger free and folds it back into a sword. He waits, steadies his breathing while he fixes his eyes on Tyrian’s tall, thin form and watches for an opening. It comes when Clover gets teeth on his throat but doesn’t get a solid grip; Tyrian slips from him and shoves him away and Qrow moves.</p><p>He sees his mistake as it happens, all within two seconds. Tyrian is faster than Qrow had anticipated, even with silver-inflicted wounds that won’t close. And the guy’s nuts, apparently, but Qrow should’ve remembered that, should’ve recalled that Clover had been bitten in Oniyuri because Tyrian had been unafraid to touch Kingfisher's hook.</p><p>The heavy swing of his sword would’ve cleaved a Grimm in two. Tyrian leaps away, though not far, and bears the brunt of his attack to his forearm. The blood pops and sizzles, fur and skin scorching, and as Qrow’s blade completes its arc, Tyrian slashes up against his belly so hard that it sends him flying.</p><p>His back hits a tree and sends a jolt of pain down his spine, all the air pushed from his lungs. The world blurs and Qrow gasps for breath, barely registers a short yowl of distress. Clover’s at his side in an instant, his too big hands hovering over the wound as he sniffs into Qrow’s hair. </p><p>Qrow holds a hand to his ribs and blinks rapidly, sees blood glinting near black in the moonlight. It stings like a bitch. He glances up just in time to see Tyrian dart off into the trees, sees Clover look after him and move to follow before he jerks himself to a stop.</p><p>“Go—” Qrow wheezes, still breathless. </p><p>Bright green eyes meet his and Clover’s ears go flat, hesitant.</p><p>“Go!” Qrow gasps out, shoving him with his bloody hand. “I’ll catch up to you, go!” </p><p>As if he’d been waiting for permission, Clover bolts. </p><p><em> He’s faster, </em> Qrow thinks. <em> He’ll catch him. </em> His strides are long and any wounds Tyrian inflicted are already closing up. All Qrow has to do now is get to his goddamn feet.</p><p>Harbinger’s thankfully still held tight in his fingers. He lifts it and stabs the blade into the ground, wincing at the movement, and pulls himself up by the hilt. He can feel blood sliding hot and slick down his stomach, the color blossoming over the fabric of his shirt. He takes a moment, closes his eyes and breathes in measures, tries not to let his heartbeat kick up too hard when he hears a sudden burst of noise, growls and yelps of pain and heavy bodies crashing through the brush.</p><p>“Come on, Branwen,” he pants out loud, then pulls Harbinger free and takes off running.</p><p>He follows a trail of broken saplings and crushed bushes towards the sound of fighting. <em> Please be alright. </em> His ribs burn. He grits his teeth. <em> Be alright. </em> He hears Clover’s snarl kick up an octave, hears it falter and go raspy, he runs until he feels like his legs are going to give out, <em> please be alright!  </em></p><p>He gets to them just in time to see Tyrian’s teeth dug into Clover’s neck. Oniyuri flashes behind his eyelids when he blinks. Tyrian tosses Clover away again and Clover lies their stunned, hand over the wound, ears pressed back and eyes wide and unseeing—</p><p>Tyrian lunges. Qrow’s heart flies up into his throat, and next thing he knows he’s slamming his fist into Tyrian’s muzzle. Tyrian yelps and rears back, shaking his head like the blow left him dizzy.</p><p>As if remembering he has a sword in his hand, Qrow holds Harbinger up defensively in front of his chest, then glances back at Clover, who blinks up at him and pants, open-mouthed. </p><p>“Hey,” Qrow says, a little sheepish. “You alright?”</p><p>Clover’s ears flick forward at the sound of his voice. After a moment, he nods.</p><p>Relief floods Qrow’s body, tension falling from his shoulders even as he keeps himself braced for a blow. “Good,” he says, turning his gaze back to Tyrian, who snarls in fury. “Dunno about you, lucky charm, but I’ve had it with this guy. You want to finish this?”</p><p>Clover huffs, amused, then climbs to his feet and rolls his shoulder, stepping nearer and letting a growl rumble low in his throat. </p><p>“Keep him close for me,” Qrow murmurs, then squeezes Harbinger’s transformation trigger, gripping the hilt overhanded and drawing it back as the blade arcs.</p><p>He exhales slowly, in measures. He steels himself against the pain in his ribs. Tyrian snaps his teeth, stance off-kilter like he’s growing weary. </p><p>Inhale for four. Hold four. Exhale four. </p><p>Qrow lunges forward in a burst of speed and swings his tonfa up. It slices into Tyrian’s chest and the blunt end strikes his jaw; Tyrian yelps again as his teeth clack together, turns his head away just in time to miss a shotgun shell to the chin. Pellets tear into his ear and the volume must sting. He whimpers, ducks, swipes low at Qrow’s belly again—Qrow brings Harbinger back down and slices deep into his hand.</p><p>Tyrian stumbles back, yowling and clutching at his bleeding palm. The smell of burnt flesh and cooked blood fills the air. He turns to bolt again and Clover lunges forward and bites into his heel just as he takes off, flinging his head back and tossing Tyrian towards Qrow. Qrow squeezes the trigger, flips Harbinger over his wrist as he lifts it high and brings the sword down hard. Tyrian scrambles away, but not quick enough to avoid a slice to his shoulder.</p><p>He howls in rage, blood falling to the dirt in inky little pools. Yellow eyes flit between Clover and Qrow, lips curled up over too-big teeth. </p><p>It happens in a blink. Harbinger folds with a click. Another shotgun blast rings in the air. Tyrian ducks it, slow and sluggish, leans right into Clover’s waiting teeth. Clover bites down on his shoulder, wrenches him upright. </p><p>Tyrian’s wild eyes fall to Qrow just as Qrow thrusts Harbinger into his chest.</p><p>The crack of bone and the wet sound of caving flesh almost echoes. For a moment, it’s silent. For a moment, no one moves. </p><p>Qrow lets out his breath, then yanks Harbinger free. The blade slides out easily, all smooth metal and sharp edges, and leaves a terrible, blackening gap behind. </p><p>Clover opens his mouth and steps back. Without the anchor, Tyrian stumbles, gargling and choking, bloody phlegm spilling out between his teeth. His form shudders and shrinks, shattered bone cracking worse until he’s human again, face rapidly losing its color. “S-she’ll forgive you,” he manages, eyes blank. “Sh...she’ll…” he trails off.</p><p>Another beat of silence, and then a heavy thud as he falls, blood seeping into the ground.</p><p>Qrow stares, gripping Harbinger’s hilt tighter when he realizes he’s shaking. He closes his eyes and swallows, waits for all the adrenaline to run its course in his veins. The pain of his wound flares, the blood and sweat under his shirt thickening and sticky. </p><p>It hurts, but he’s alive. He’s alive, and Clover’s alive, and it’s finally over.</p><p>When he opens his eyes again, he catches the last of Clover’s transformation. Blood from Tyrian’s bite runs from his shoulder, but the breaks in skin are already dark and sealing. Clover’s eyes stay pinned on Tyrian’s still form, his chest heaving and his jaw tight.</p><p>He falls to his knees.</p><p>“Clover,” Qrow breathes, dropping Harbinger and rushing to him. He puts a hand on Clover’s back and cups his jaw, turning his face to kiss his cheek and press his forehead to Clover’s temple. </p><p>“He’s really dead,” Clover rasps.</p><p>“He’s gone,” Qrow sighs, fingers curling in Clover’s hair. “Good fucking riddance.” </p><p>He wants to say more than that. He wants to say, <em> You scared me, I was terrified, I thought I wouldn’t make it in time. </em> He wants to say, <em> You were amazing, you were incredible, I’ve never seen you fight like that. </em>He says, “You did it. You avenged your sister.”</p><p>Clover closes his eyes and lets out a shaky laugh, then meets Qrow’s gaze, his eyes shining and wet. “We did it,” he says, reaching up to put a hand over Qrow’s, thumb sliding along his knuckles. “You and me.”</p><p>Qrow’s heart beats in his chest so hard, he wonders if Clover can hear it. Adoration swells in his chest so suddenly that he feels fit to burst with it. “Clover?” he says, breathless, and he is not waiting one more goddamn minute. “I love you.”</p><p>Clover’s mouth falls open, sea-green eyes wide and bright in the dark before a smile blooms over his face. “I love you too,” he says, with the same open honesty that made Qrow fall in love with him in the first place, and throws his arms around Qrow’s neck and kisses him so suddenly that it steals his breath all over again.</p><p>Qrow laughs against his mouth, then wheezes, “Cloves, my ribs.”</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Clover says, leaning back. </p><p>Qrow snorts, then winces. “I think I’d like to go home now, if that’s cool.”</p><p>“Are you serious? You need a hospital.”</p><p>“I need a nap.”</p><p>“You need stitches.”</p><p>“A ten year nap.”</p><p>“Brothers help me,” Clover mutters, then slings Qrow’s arm over his shoulders and pulls him to his feet. “You’d better not pass out.”</p><p>“You carried me all the way to Beacon,” Qrow reminds him, grimacing as they stoop to pick up Harbinger. “I think you’ll be fine if I pass out.”</p><p>“Maybe, but I’d be mad at you.”</p><p>Qrow grins. “But you’d still love me anyways.”</p><p>Clover looks at him, then noses at Qrow’s jaw, affectionate. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I would.”</p>
<hr/><p>Epilogue</p>
<hr/><p>The dressing room curtain rustles. Qrow glances up in the mirror, expecting Taiyang with another suit, but green eyes peek mischievously past the fabric, and Qrow snorts.</p><p>“Are you decent?” Clover asks.</p><p>“Yes,” Qrow answers, turning to face him with a raised brow as he finishes tying a loop at the back of his vest.</p><p>“Damn,” Clover sighs, then glances around, steps in, and shuts the curtain again.</p><p>“Tai’s going to kick your ass,” Qrow says in quiet amusement as Clover crowds close to him. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see your groom dressed before a wedding?”</p><p>Clover waves his hand dismissively. “That only counts on wedding day.”</p><p>“That’s not how that works,” Qrow says, then hums as Clover nudges a kiss against his mouth and smooths hands over his hips. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying on clothes?” he asks.</p><p>Clover pouts. “We’ve been trying on clothes for hours. Besides, I wanted to see you.”</p><p>“Is that code for ‘Weiss is driving me nuts?’”</p><p>“…She’s very picky.”</p><p>“Which means you’ll look good,” Qrow points out.</p><p>Clover scoffs. “I look good in anything,” he says.</p><p>“Okay, maybe. At least you’ve got Ruby this time.”</p><p>“Yang and Blake double-teaming you?”</p><p>Qrow groans. “It’s like being in front of a panel of judges.”</p><p>Clover chuckles, and then his gaze wanders down past Qrow’s neckline, to the gray fabric pulled snug over his chest. “Well, if you’re hoping to impress…”</p><p>Qrow feels his hands tugging on the laces at his back and swats him away. “Quit,” he chides. “I just got into this thing.”</p><p>“I didn’t know corset backs were your style,” Clover says appreciatively, eyes hungry. He only moves his hands to Qrow’s belly instead, and Qrow draws in a breath at his warmth.</p><p>“Tai’s idea,” Qrow admits.</p><p>“Tai’s a smart man,” Clover murmurs.</p><p>“It’d probably suit your frame better,” Qrow muses, letting Clover back him against the wall.</p><p>“I, personally, think it suits your frame just fine.”</p><p>“Which I’d take into consideration,” Qrow reminds him, even as his own hands slide a little further down Clover’s back to squeeze, “if you were supposed to see me right now.”</p><p>Clover makes a little noise of interest, their mouths very nearly touching. “Kick me out, then,” he dares.</p><p>Qrow sighs, fondness blooming beneath his ribs. “You know I won’t,” he says softly. </p><p>Clovers ears spring up from beneath his hair, and Qrow very nearly laughs—would laugh, if Clover didn’t kiss him just then.</p><p>Distantly, Taiyang calls, “Clover Ebi, so help me gods, if I find you in that dressing room…”</p><p>“You’re gonna get us in trouble again,” Qrow whispers, teasing.</p><p>Clover’s tail swishes against his knuckles. “Maybe if I make him mad enough, we can leave and go get something to eat,” he says.</p><p>Qrow huffs a laugh and then steals another kiss, partly because he can’t help it and partly because he wouldn’t mind a burger, and Clover returns it so eagerly that for a moment, Qrow forgets they’re in a dressing room.</p><p>And then the curtain flings open.</p><p>James raises an amused eyebrow when they both startle and whirl towards him. “Oz sent me to collect you before Taiyang comes looking,” he says to Clover.</p><p>Clover sighs and hangs his head. “Foiled again,” he mutters, holding his hands up in surrender and stepping away. “You could cut a guy a break sometimes, you know.”</p><p>“Out,” James says firmly.</p><p>Clover’s ears flatten against his head, his tail drooping in another pout. Qrow tries not to laugh for the sake of his pride and snags Clover’s hand before he reaches the curtain, pulling his knuckles up to kiss. </p><p>“Be good,” he says, winking. </p><p>“Ha, ha, very funny,” Clover says, rolling his eyes even as his cheeks flush pink.</p><p>Qrow grins, then tugs on him again. “Hey. Love you.”</p><p>Clover flushes a little darker, expression growing tender. “Love you,” he replies, squeezing Qrow’s fingers once before James shoos him out.</p><p>Qrow listens to his complaints fade a moment longer, biting his lip in attempt to stave off the embarrassment of unbridled affection, and quietly twists the gold ring on his left hand.</p><p>Not for the first time as of late, he feels like the luckiest man alive.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's all folks! Thank you all so much for sticking with me while I did this. I've never written a chapter fic this quickly and the last time I completed anything that wasn't a oneshot was (checks watch) a decade ago, so this story means a lot to me, and I definitely couldn't have done it without all the support.</p><p>Huge shoutout to those of you who gave kudos and those of you who left me comments, and especially big hearts to those who commented on every chapter. I've gotten a lot of beautiful feedback for this fic, so...yeah lmao. Thank you all so much &lt;3</p><p>I hope you'll all enjoy my next works just as much!</p>
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